It is the 50's or so, we will not meet for some 25 years yet. But we do meet, in a weird other-life twist in which I am a little, soft, fluffy blonde woman and she is me. He is giving some other gal a hard time, so I intervene. Would you like to dance? And we waltz down the aisle of the grocery store. There is an urgent flight across the anemic yellow lawns of overcast subdivisions, a hasty shuffling of cars (black, white and gray Datsun Z's), then he spreads me in my pastel naked glory before a mirror. I radiate more heat than light.