A.W.I.A, Part 5: The Tables Turned, and Turned Again

Now that the man who was supposed to be a doctor was ready to communicate with me, I was not sure I was ready to hear what he had to say. I may have even insulted him, when he told me that he listened to stories for a living, by telling him that it didn't sound to me like a grown-up occupation.

He looked surprised, certainly. "What do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean by that? Exactly what I said. What could I mean by that?"

"That's exactly what I would like to know."

He seemed like a bright enough man. Cagy, certainly. But was he? Out loud, I wondered,
"What is the virtue of an intelligence that renders clear things cryptic?"

He let my question hang there before answering, but I was already blushing to my ears when he said,"I might ask the same of you."

I had fallen right into his trap. Or was it a trap? Had he set it deliberately or inadvertently? Either way, I'd failed myself by blushing.

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