11
I re-enter the restaurant and find my way back to our little room. Then I touch myself on the forehead.
I’m back in my body. The sounds return.
“I must admit I love these places,” I say, making small talk to cover any weirdness in my demeanor. “It’s like a little piece of Japan in the middle of Brooklyn. This one isn’t as hardcore as some I’ve seen. At least we’re allowed to keep our shoes on.”
Mira and Eugene comment on how some places in Brooklyn are more like that. Some do make you take your shoes off, and their servers wear kimonos.
I breathe easier. I officially got away with the little bit of snooping.
We all examine the menus.
“So, Darren, how long can you stay in the Mind Dimension?” Mira says nonchalantly, resuming the conversation.
“Mira,” Eugene says, reddening as he
