“It’s about time,” I said.
“About time for what?” She asked.
“Time to practice our dialogue.”
“Ohh, oh yes, of course,” she said, “I forgot.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “I forget sometimes to.”
“Forget what?”
“About the dialogue practice.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“So do you think this is good dialogue?” she asked.
I paused in my fidgeting and noiselessly set down my widgemo. I held her gaze for a moment. How could she ask that? After all we’d been through. The dialogue, the practice, forgetting, and now this, my widge-emo.
“I mean,” I begin. Gesturing at the widge-omo. It would remain undefined. We both looked at it, as if waiting for significance to dawn, but like a simile for night dwellers, we remained in the dark.
“Like bats,” she said.
“Yeah, like” I g-g-gulped, “like bats.”
My eyes expanded until they were the size of saucers. Oh god, we’re in a cartoon.