Who is she?

Look at her, with her face so utterly unnatural. Look at what she wears. Make-up designated for clown use. Fabric made from the blood, sweat, and slavery of children and animals alike. A diamond ring that would make a banker's accountant weep. Prestige drips from her arm in the form of a million dollar bracelet.

We attend a social gathering where all the rich intellects get together and decay under their ideas. We throw around neologisms and philosophical observations like we do our money. (Although, it's impolite to talk about money.)

“His novel was about the ideal man, which is something I'd like to see more of.” (She is talking about The Fountainhead.)

Listen to them talk. Listen to her.

“Let me introduce you to...”

this person...
and that person
until I'm tired. I don't want to meet

“...my colleague that was a class ahead me at Brown.”

—Hello there.
—So, you're the man Linda's been telling me about?
—Yeah. That's me.
—I was expecting someone a little taller.
—I did too. Bad genetics, I'm afraid.
—Heh, you're pretty funny. Are you a comedian?
—I guess so.

Where is my mind?

I'm imagining that she reveals her true form, stepping out of Pandora's closet and sliding her flaming heels across the hardwood floor. I see her skin to be lying on the floor, shriveled and curled.

“Yes, and I'm afraid to say I'm on the side of the relativists on this issue...”

Back to reality.

She says, swishing the ice around in her glass, “David, tell this rambunctious group why they are not atheists or agnostics. Explain to them why it is impossible for anyone in this room to be devoid of religion.”

I tell them that the people in this room are social entrepreneurs. We give money to cancer research and malaria treatment and hospitals for third world countries. Those are good works. Sola gratia. We're all Catholics here.

They laugh. I get my nod of approval and walk away for the comfort of an empty corner.

What am I doing here?

I don't know but please stop shaking your head. I'm not making a mistake. I usually don't date corpses, but I had to get into this great country somehow.

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