Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said

by Philip K. Dick

“I have five thousand dollars on me,” Jason said. “Or, rather, less five hundred. I’m a world-famous entertainer; I work a month every year at the Sands in addition to my show. In fact, I appear at a number of first-class clubs, when I can squeeze them into my tight schedule.” “Gee,” Kathy said. “I wish I had heard of you; then I could be impressed.” He laughed. “Did I say something stupid?” Kathy asked timidly. “No,” Jason said. “Kathy, how old are you?” “I’m nineteen. My birthday is in December, so I’m almost twenty. How old did you think I am by looking at me?” “About sixteen,” he said. Her mouth turned down in a childlike pout. “That’s what everybody says,” she said in a low voice. “It’s because I don’t have any bosom. If I had a bosom I’d look twenty-one. How old are you?” She stopped fiddling with her type and eyed him intently. “I’d guess about fifty.” Fury flowed through him. And misery. “You look like your feelings are hurt,” Kathy said. “I’m forty-two,” Jason said tightly.