“I don't know anything about your family, but do you remember the last time you spent time together as a happy family?”

  I watch myself in the mirror, wearing a long red dress with straps and sequins. It's unclear whether I'm asking Ezra the question or myself. Obviously even Ezra can't distinguish, so he remains silent for a while. Then I look at his face in the mirror, “So, don't you have an answer?”

  He shakes his head, as if mesmerized. "Well, can you ask me again? I missed the question when I was looking at you. Of course, it's a compliment to my taste, not yours. I picked out a nice dress, on the first try."

  “I asked about the last good time you spent with your family.” I put my hand on the tag of the dress, and if the zeros I see are real, it costs more than the wedding dress I picked out. The sales consultant notices that I raise my eyebrows while looking at the price tag and immediately interrupts, “You look perfect in it, ma'am. You look like you're about to win an Oscar."

  "Except I'm not going to win an Oscar. My future husband wants to make me wear it and make his ex-girlfriend jealous. Nobody's going to win an Oscar at the end of this act, I'm afraid. How does it look to you now?"

  The woman looks at me and then at Ezra, takes two steps back, her cheeks flushed. “I'll get you a glass of wine.”

  “That'd be great,” I say, turning my back to the mirror. Ezra doesn't seem to care at all about what I just said. Suddenly he stands up, “Come, let's rehearse.”

  “What?”

  He gestures for me to take his arm. I do as he says, and we walk to the mirror first. Then we turn around together. We walk looking in the mirror, “Now, we're going into the hall. Smile, please. Look how beautiful you look in the mirror. Let's walk there with that confidence, please." The woman returns with two glasses of wine on a tray. “Oh, thank you.” He takes the wines with a polite gesture and hands one to me.

  Really, we look as if we have come to an award ceremony. I still don't understand why this is necessary. He leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Look, I can see it's expensive, but I'll tell you what, we'll deduct this from the money you'll give me. I'll try to sell this one and add it on. Is that okay?"

  "Sure, why not? After all, you said win-win. Anyway, do you have an answer to my question?"

  He pulls his hand from where it was resting, from my waist. “Yes, can we talk outside?”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I take off the dress and pay for it. We walk with shopping bags in our hands. We come to Central Park, which I had visited alone before and admired its greatness. We sit on a bench.

  He leans back. I sit a little bit in front of him on the bench. I turn slightly to him so I can see his face.

  "I feel like these kinds of questions will inevitably create a bond between us, so I'm a little hesitant to talk."

  I am surprised because I never expected this seriousness instead of the usual clown face. What do I expect though? I am asking a very serious question to a man whose life I know nothing about.

  "You're right. You don't have to tell me...”

  He interrupts me. “But I'm going to tell you because there's no deeper connection between us anyway, and it's impossible.”

  I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I step back a little. “Yes.” This answer comes out of my mouth like a whisper.

  "I was little, okay? I was twelve. We were right here. My mom was knitting on one of these benches, maybe this one right here. It must have been winter, or fall. Me and my dad were trying to teach my sister Lucie how to ride a bike. We were all screaming with joy when she took her first free, unassisted steps on her bike. My dad bought us all hot dogs. We walked home eating them. Maybe there were other good memories. Both before and after. But this is the best memory I remember."

  I lean back. I no longer wonder what his face looks like when he tells me because now I can see that there is a pain in his soul. He's not a clown who doesn't give a damn about life. But he is still a prejudiced clown, and his injustice to me shows it.

  "Yes, you heard. Do you have a comment?” He asks sarcastically.

  “I'm a physical doctor Ezra, I don't know much about the soul, that's more your job.”

  "Soul? That concept has been dormant for me for a long time. With you it's like waking up. I mean with your story. One of the nights we talked at the table, when you told me everything, I felt something. Then it passed. As for me being a psychologist, I try to be completely logical there, I'm not interested in souls."

  "Then, logically, could you also comment on why you are sometimes human and other times completely robot-like? I know you find me cold, I know a lot of people do, but at least I'm consistent. But you, you're always different. I don't know how to explain it better in a non-native language."

  "Well, let's talk about you then. Answer the same question."

  I'm thinking. I didn't think of my own answer when I asked the question. The bird landing on the branch of a tree in front of us gives me the answer I'm looking for. “I remember!” I turn to Ezra cheerfully and tell him with a smile:

  “School had just closed. I must have been ten years old because the fourth grade was over. And I had done very well in the semester, I was so happy. I was dying to show my grades to my father, but he didn't come to school to pick me up. He sent his driver instead. Still, I didn't get discouraged in case he was busy, because he was usually very busy. The car stopped at the garden gate. The driver opened my door and helped me out. I could hear my father's voice coming from the courtyard. I ran inside. My father was waiting for me to hug him with open arms. I ran and hugged him. He took me in his arms and twirled me in the air. I saw a cage on the table in the courtyard, covered with a white cloth. But I could hear the sounds coming from inside. My father gave me a blue colored parakeet that day. The bird was chirping cheerfully in its cage. I immediately gave it a name, 'Doctor'. They always asked me if he had another name. No, he didn't. He was just the Doctor.”

  Ezra seemed startled by the way my voice trailed off towards the end. “What happened to the bird?”

  "He died. For some reason my father decided to take another bird with him. I guess he thought he was doing a good thing. They were in the same cage. The bird he took with him died for no reason. When it died, the Doctor died too."

  Ezra took my hand tenderly, “We won't let your father put you in a cage. We're getting married next week."

  So I've reminded you again what a soul is. My stories take you from robot to human, Ezra, but unfortunately, it's not my job to save you. I'm in charge of saving myself.