Now warm, not light, not wet.’Béla realized she wasn’t going to get any better answers than that. The Boa could be describing the destruction of ...ts world, or its survival through its last winter. ‘What do you eat?’ Béla asked, starting to feel frustrated. This thing was dumb as a potato.‘Light, wet, move,’ it replied.She had determined what she wanted to know. It was a plant. It absorbed plankton or whatever landed on it as it drifted by in the water.‘I’d better make sure not to get this thing. It read: ‘Hi Bobby, So glad you could come! Meet me at the foot of the stage right after the show. Bree’.It was a great seat. Center section, third row, on the aisle. He looked around the small theater. It seated three or four hundred and had high ceilings, chandeliers and a small balcony. There was a band tuning up on one side of the floor. He read through the playbill and saw Bree’s name in a few different places: artist-in-residence, choreography, and in several different numbers. The show. More

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