ground. But she didn’t seem to guess this at all. Eventually they covered her and all he could see was a mound of tangled tulips bent low over her body, which was kicking to the last. He described all of that to Guitar as though the dream emphasized his point about the dangers of seriousness. He tried to be as light-hearted as possible in the telling, but at the end, Guitar looked him in the eyes and said, “Why didn’t you go help her?” “What?” “Help her. Pull her out from underneath.” “But she liked it. She was having fun. She liked it.” “Are you sure?” Guitar was smiling. “Sure I’m sure. It
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