Dialogue in Text
Woman: You may be a shadow known as Kerouac Steinbeck Celine. I see similarities as people and prophets. Maybe that merely means you’re a writer, as they were.
Man: That was a very lovely thing to say. You are beautiful.
Woman: Thank you, sir.
Man: You already knew that though, right?
Woman: Sometimes.
Man: Coyness is becoming.
Woman: Coyness? More like the assessment of a self critical writer. You know what that’s like.
Man: Possibly. Well, then I will boost your ego so you don’t have to.
Woman: Hhhmmm…I’ll allow that, I suppose.
Man: You suppose? I will not accept suppose.
Woman: Alright then, sir: you have free rein.
Man: Thank you. Even though you seem reluctant.
Woman: I’m just a cautious gal these days. But seeing as you have precedent, well, it’s fair to assume you’re a safe haven.
Man: Caution is good. I would hate to catch you off guard; it would ruin my image of you. And yes, I am a haven.
Woman: My guard is rarely off. And god forbid I ruin images. Yes, you are a haven for some things.
Man: Some things.
Woman: Yes. The others are the ones that I hold; Me, Myself, and I.
Man: Fair enough. I’ll take what I can get.
Woman: You and me both.
Man: You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?
Woman: Eh…words just flow when you’re on the other end of a thought. Not clever, just receptive.
Man: Well, I think you’re clever. And elusive.
Woman: Thank you, sir. I’m only elusive to people who see ghosts.
Man: I guess that’s me.
Woman: I guess it is. I do live in the same city as you.
Man: You do. Maybe we should serendipitously run into one another.
Woman: I do adore that word: serendipitous. But I have little faith in things that are fated because I’ve no patience for broken promises. I live here and now.
Man: I’m thinking I should read into that message.
Woman: No. It’s all just words. Sparring, if you will. Click your heels three times and I may appear.
Man: Click. Click. Click. So…
Woman: Ha. Click them when I’m not in the southern part of the state.
Man: Fuck. I though magic wasn’t confined to regions?
Woman: Well, click them when you actually want to see me. Even magic has its realities and preferences.
Man: I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to see you. Magic is not nearly as cool as I thought.
Woman: Tell me about it. Well, I spend my Monday’s writing and reading in the secluded park off the lake. You could magically see me there, feasibly.
Man: I could. It’s far, but I could. Is there a time that would be best for a magical encounter?
Woman: Around noon. Provided you arrive by unicorn.
Man: Planning on it. And then you can meet my new pet: Do-do bird.
Woman: I’m not sure whether or not I’m hoping that’s a mataphor.
Man: Is that like Spanish comparison: mataphor? And you should hope it is.
Woman: I do enjoy a good bullfight as the sun also rises. Good luck finding me. I’ll be the girl surrounded by linguistic fairy dust.
Man: Sounds hot.
Woman: That’s all in the eye of the beholder.
Man: Well, these eyes think so.
Woman: Thank you, kind sir’s eyes.
Man: They say “You are welcome.”
