She looked up from her supper. "You know, the real reason I never told anyone about you, about us, is because if it turned out you were just make believe, that I was the only one who could see you, like I see the bedbugs, crawling things all over my skin making pretty patterns like Maori tattoos, then no one would laugh at me just because they couldn't see it too."
"But I am real."
"So you say. Can you prove it?"
"No. Proving it is just more make believe, I expect."
"Yes." She took another bite of her meatloaf. "Yes, just more make believe, more Alice through the looking glass. Poof. Smoke signals only I can see. Poof."
"Huh. well, can you pass the ketchup anyway, even if I am a figment? This meatloaf is awful dry."
"Gravy?"
"No, just the ketchup. Thanks."
"Welcome."
"Do they itch?"
"Does what itch?"
"The Maori bedbugs?"
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