Not.

After a brief pan across the city to indicate the passage of time, we head over to Andy's, where Prue waits for him in the hallway outside his apartment. He appears toting a sack of groceries, and Prue gets right to the point. "Can you or can you not accept that I'm a witch?" she asks. After a regretful pause, Andy replies, "If I have to answer right now? I don't think so, Prue. I mean, there's nothing wrong with it -- I guess. It's just a future I don't envision having." That was close enough to that Seinfeld catchphrase to elicit a groan from me. Shut up, Andy. A clock within his apartment chimes the hour, and a wave of cluelessness passes across Andy's face. "What were we just talking about?" he wonders. Prue confirms that he can't recall a single thing he said to her in the last twenty-four hours, kisses him gently on his cheek, and dejectedly wanders off down the hall. Once she's rounded the corner, she leans against the wall as glycerin trickles down her cheeks. How in the hell did they rig an invisible glycerin dispenser on Shannen Doherty's face like that? Oh, can it. I refuse to believe she's actually crying.