Get some air.

You prescribe a shake of the head and slide out to the living room in earnest.

"I'mma go out for a bit," you raise a pair of fingers. "Be back for dinner, maybe."

Snap!

The ceiling fan wobbles slightly over the empty room. Sun prickles through the curtains. The slam of the oven door tarries the background.

"What was that, John?" Cassandra appears at the doorway shortly after, and upon raising her head, stops at the entryway. Her toweling pauses as an on-the-phone Marilyn descends down the steps, yapping about shoes while going over to the fridge only to glumly find the SunnyD past its expiration. "John?"

With you nowhere to be found, the woman saves her reprimanding for later. On one foot of the turn, she takes a moment to expend a glance at the leash on a nearby coffee table, chuckles awkwardly, and returns to the kitchen to broom the floor.