He is sitting on the couch, watching how his wife or better said, that thing, is cooking for him and his daughter, Amelia. He watches the perfect precision of how it cuts the ingredients, knowing the real Eveline would probably get cut cutting that fast. Soon, the dinner is ready. "Honey, the dinner is ready." She puts the plates on the table. "Could you call Amelia?" He should be used to it, the way it tries to imitate Eveline's voice and concerns but it didn't feel right, it never did. When he knocks on Amelia's door, she doesn't answer. She will never accept that thing as her mother and he understands her. He goes back to the table and sits down to eat as Eveline pretends to eat. "How's the food honey? I made it just how you like it." The dish was perfectly made, unnaturally perfect.