I just don't think you would, is the thing. I don't doubt the fury, I mean. And I don't doubt that you would try to prove that person wrong. But I don't think the example you'd choose would be me. I don't think I'd be your first choice, or your second, or anything above a last resort, really. Maybe not even then.

[It's good stew. Green is the right word for it, for all that it's imprecise to use a color to describe a sensation of flavor. Sometimes you can get away with that, when it's particularly fitting. Poetic license and all, and sometimes the emphasis is all the more powerful for it, from doing a thing that's different and unexpected.

There's probably a lesson baked into that. She decides to focus on eating her stew and not think too hard about it. When she continues, it's not so much adversarial as philosophical, like she's teasing apart a concept the way she'd forked loose the lamb.]

I don't think I dispute that I have a story that can be told, or that it's worth telling. I posited that mine is different from others, and the two aren't mutually exclusive. Some people reflect on the road not taken; I think for me it's more "the road never available". Wanting things doesn't always mean those things were ever attainable to begin with. It does mean you settle for what is available to you, sometimes.

[She pauses. Takes another bite.]

This is very good, if I forgot to say so before. And I yield the floor for your rebuttal.