"What shape am I?"
"What am I shaped like?"
she raises her eyebrows and hands me a page, torn from a magazine
I look the page over
"When you wake up tomorrow, which would you rather be?
A trinket only good for telling the time?
A trophy of the short-lived or almost dead?
A mere container for what everyone really desires?
Or a standard, a measure by which everything is compared?"
"A person! You don't get it!
I guess I'll ask someone who sees more clearly than you."