“It was a trick question,” he yells.
“No, it wasn’t,” I say, calmly.
“You asked which was better, not which was possible.”
“Do you often make value judgments about the impossible?”
“I’m confused,” he says, shaking his head.
“True.”
“How did we get to bears and bushes from Sky King and your two-timing girlfriend?”
“We were establishing, I think, that there is a delicate balance between reality and illusion, and, since you claim I live in the worlds of the fiction I read, between art and life.”
“Look,” he says, leaning forward. “You say she’s a bush, I say she’s a bear. If I’m right, you’re going to get mauled.” I shrug my shoulders. The game is getting old and it’s time to go home, I’d like to say.
The girl looks at us again, but just for a second before she stands up and stretches
