Lately, Dante has caught me avoiding his questions, giving half-answers or no answers at all. Yet he never asks me why I dance in circles around some of his inquiries. Perhaps, having already been faced with the urge to lie himself, it s self-evident. Yet he also senses my obligation. I have never lied to him, and he trusts me, but we are walking a thin line.
Time s up.
I shut off my brain and spit out the answer. Well, no . They re not. Dante looks at me for a minute, appearing to study the words as they roll off my lips, then his eyes drift past me. The familiar creases forming on his forehead reveal, like a rippling curtain across a stage, the exciting process taking place behind.