360. Each arm of the aloe had frozen into a shiny green stalk, frozen yet still pliable. He thought it best to move the pot off the sill and onto the warmer kitchen table. The table was filled with traces of coffee mugs. Overlapping semicircles suggesting overlapping conversations. She had been baking again. Anger had burned the chocolate chip cookies: dark, crusty, blackened bottoms, they had been abandoned in piles on the counter, a message which spoke more than she wanted it to. He left her a message in the flour. He wrote "I need you"; he meant "I need to be loved".