Who You Talkin' To?

Ben came down the hall wringing the sleep out of his eyes. I was standing alone in the living room beside the couch adjusting a blanket over the dog. Ben had heard me talking.

"Who you talkin' to?"

I stood up and looked at him and then looked down at the dog who stared back up at me from beneath the dark blue fleece.

"The dog," I said.

There's not problem with that. Of course not. We talk. All the time. All day long. Ever since we became office mates.

But, um, I do go to lunch by myself.

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