Abraham fakes a smile, pondering out loud he contests: “if reality is about perception and a smile, though faked, is the gesture I’m presenting for interpretation to the public, while my internal monologue wails in woe…” He fishes around in his pocket for money. “A faux reality,” he insists, “is real if it’s the only one available for interpretation. The human experience is subjective…” He slaps the money down onto the counter, holds his index finger erect, perpendicular to his eye-line and raises his eyebrows in jubilation. “IT’S THEREFORE IMPOSSIBLE TO LIVE A LIE! IF LIES ARE ALL WE HAVE, THEN THE LIE IS REAL!” He shouts.

“Sir,” the female clerk behind the counter interrupts his rant, “though I appreciate your energy, it ain’t the time for it. Now.” She says pointing at a row of menus posted above her head. “What would you like to order?” 

“Oh, uh…” Abraham continues smiling, “I guess what I always have….a number four with a diet coke.”