A sigh stirred the air, and a fleck of pencil shaving drifted gently as a winter leaf from the desk’s top and into an opened drawer below. Wiry white metal carriages squeezed motionless moss-green envelopes flat, a failed accordion played its last note. One graphite smudged manila tab revealed an index card nestled in its fold. Its title, every letter meticulously placed above the thin red line, “Fibonacci Caramel Sauce“. Strange ingredients and unusual instructions followed each blue stripe. A penciled line crossed the recipe’s final directions, “serves one”, and at the end, the precarious and parenthetical words “portion control” took their place.