But it does seem silly.
See, or don’t see, for yourself.
I want to hear some history.
How the girl looks (is actually unimportant).
No, I mean give me something real.
Feeling all the very specific details.
A collection of words... which is really all a bookshop is.
The man's feeling all the very specific details again.
You’re (not) someone who puts all the details together.
Well enough to know.
The woman we’ve been focused on is abruptly gone.
A change in location that could be useful.
Someone I remember (who died tragically and violently).
Descriptors.
Give the woman what’s hers by rights... but it's not money.
I’ve forgotten the details, unfortunately.
An offering of something.
I honestly can’t say if they were treated well. (Spoiler: they weren’t.)
Death versus life.
And now I’ll take my leave of you.
Time for you to tell me about the central figure of mistaken/subverted identity.
The blonde is seeing through people’s bullshit.
Is it someone I’ve met before? Do I know them?
But don’t worry – I’ll figure it out from the clues I already have.
This is what someone else thinks.
Question and answer: Well, what do you think?
It’s all about context (but now we’re not talking about them, we’re talking about her).
Yes, as a personal admission about myself.
And in my whole career, this is the first time I’m feeling challenged.
(I thought this was) Goodbye.
Sitting behind the wheel of a parked car, looking down at a picture of someone who perhaps has been misrepresented to the man looking at it...
Talking about the misattributed representation of our fears to a murderer, and the other man says Yes.
That other character/situation is unimportant. What else do you know?
And here’s the setup.
How do you actually know all these things? Just through notes and pictures?
The perfidy of memory...
A woman died, and this affects someone else’s ability to live.
Ending on a bon mot while we're looking down and away; we’re joking but not really joking.
A phone/bell rings.
I know what you want without you having to ask for it.
