It's the slow, gradual transgression back to the darker days.
Just like Lucrezia Borgia's victims, slowly succumbing to the arsenic added to their food.

Bro came back today, and he bought a little souvenir for me. It was a reallyawkward moment when he handed to me. Unexpectedly bashful, he was like "I got everyone something, so you should have one too." And placed the little ethnic doll on the coffee table. I was quite taken aback on his sudden recognition of my existence, all I could say was thanks. All at the same time, rebuking myself for not carrying on a conversation. Awkward moments, call for awkward actions, leading to awkward thoughts.