Sweet Popcorn Gal, part II.3

“Is there a problem with our being here?” the man asked the writer.

“Why? Should there be a problem?” the writer responded absently, looking nervously over his shoulder at the door he had just walked through.

“Hello! We’re talking here.”

“I’m sorry,” the writer said. “I’ve been having a difficult day. OK, let’s see. For one thing, you’re both fictional. And now here you are dancing in the neighborhood coffee shop.”

“Since we are fictional,” the woman replied, “whether we dance in neighborhood coffee shops should be of no consequence.”

There was no answer. The writer was looking at the door again.

“You seem distracted,” she said.

“Sorry. I was just surprised to see you dancing in my neighborhood coffee shop.”

“Interesting,” the woman replied. “Does your neighborhood coffee shop have a piano?”

The writer hesitated, “It didn’t until today. Nice touch, I have to admit.”

“So how do you know it’s the same coffee shop?”

“How do I know…?” The writer gave her a curious look. “Because I come here every day.”

“How do you know it’s the same you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s look at the evidence. At the moment you are conversing with fictional representations. Maybe you are a fictional representation.”

“A fictional representation of what?”

“Why, of you, of course.”

The writer sank down into the nearest chair. “Oh my. I think I need a drink.”

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