The kitchen smells like spaghetti and something burnt. David is already laughing at his own joke before he finishes telling it, nearly knocking over his drink. His grin is huge, his sense of humor is absolutely terrible, and the whole table shakes when he slaps it. You've heard this kind of joke a hundred times. You should be used to it. But something about tonight feels different - a flicker behind his eyes when he looks at you, hoping you'll laugh. He just wants to be a good dad. He's just really, really bad at showing it.