He tries to describe love to his young son, the idea of looking at someone and losing yourself, and then the son says, I said lust, not love

The jokes weren’t funny, but he laughed loudest. Because he told the jokes. And this appealed to her. But only because she was his daughter.

They weren’t happy any longer, though both were years from acknowledging it. And so they ate dinner in silence, both imagining lovelier days