One of my mornings this week began with a visit to the dermatologist. All of my suspicious spots were above the waist so I was issued a "cape" rather than a "gown." Dressed in a sleeveless, shapeless paper garment when the doctor and his assistant entered the room, I informed them that I wouldn't give them a nickel for a whole case of the things. The doctor smiled. The assistant replied, "You're right. They have no architectural integrity at all."
Instantly she became a character to me. Throughout the time my flesh was being frozen, hacked and cauterized I was in another world, imagining the background of my delightful character, dreaming up other dialogue and conjuring the situations in which she might find herself.
I wonder how non-story tellers transport themselves from unpleasant situations.
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