When It Wasn’t A Cardboard Sea

“Yes, Charles, it’s quite lovely now, but fall comes just before winter, remember? And winter here lasts a long time, as long as fall, spring and summer put together.”
“You’re exaggerating, Emilia. You always exaggerate.”
“If I do, it’s only because you won’t listen to reason. So I have to help reason out.”
“You never see nature like this in the city.”
“I’m more fond of nightclubs. I like watching your clientele perform.”
“We can afford to go back and forth, you know that.”
“How about two houses? Can’t we afford that?”
“Then I would never see you.”
“You could in the non-winter months. At least sometimes.”
“You love the city more than me.”
“You love the country more than me.”
“Now, come on. That’s even worse than exaggeration.”
“You started it.”
“I did. I’m flustered.”
“Don’t be flustered. Look at all the natural beauty around you.”
“Now you’re mocking me.”
“I am. But I love you.”
“More than the city?”
“Enough to put up with the country.”
“Really?”
“Maybe.”
“When will I know for sure?”
“You won’t, so you’ll have to be extra nice to me all the time.”
“How about I take you out on the water in a boat named after you?”
“That’s what we’re doing now.”
“Is it enough?
“Do you really really love me?”
“If I could really really tell you, I’d quit being a producer and undertake the simple life of a songwriter.”
“And I would quit being ungrateful and let you take me wherever you like.”
“Even here?”
“Exactly here.”
“Well, here goes. ‘It’s only a paper moon…’”
“That’s been done, but okay. Keep on going. I’ll do the harmony. And keep rowing. It’s getting more and more amenable out here all the time.”

5 October 2026
Texas Jim
Prospect, Nova Scotia