"What is a six letter word for the collection of all points in three-dimensional space that are equidistant from a central point?" she asked.
"What are you doing the MIT Mathematics Journal crossword puzzle or something?" he replied. "It's sphere," he added.
"Really?" She seemed surprised. "Yeah, that fits."
"Yes. That's the definition of a sphere," he said. "Why?"
"That just doesn't describe a sphere at all to me. That sounds like a square or something," she put down the crossword and yawned.
"Words mean things, you know. That doesn't sound like a square at all." He smiled at her.
She pushed imaginary glasses into the bridge of her nose and, in her best faux-nerd voice, repeated, "Words mean something you know. Words mean something you know. Words mean something you know." He laughed in spite of himself. "Admit that it sounds like a square," she said, scooting over beside him on the couch.
"It does not sound like a square! A square is not three-dimensional and the points that make up a square are not equidistant from a central point! It's SO not at all a square," he said, a little embarrassed at the passionate raising of his voice.
She pressed right up next to him, her face just an inch from his. "Just admit that you're wrong and I'm right. I promise it will be worth it." Her smile was sly and mischievous. He could smell her hair. He could feel her rise and fall with each breath. She leaned forward, ever so slightly.
"Of course, you're right," he said softly. "I just get confused sometimes."
He did not regret it.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
