We're sitting at a restaurant. It's bright. Brunch maybe? Everyone's dressed in Sunday clothes, him in khakis and a buttondown shirt with his hair slicked back, me in some sort of sundress. We're mostly ignoring each other, but he puts his arm around me every couple of minutes and I stiffen. I'm there for some reason I don't really understand - pretending that we haven't broken up when we have. There's a small blond child (supposedly his nephew, though to my knowledge he doesn't have one) that keeps coming to stand between our chairs. "I don't think you guys love each other anymore." Uh oh. We've been found out. "You don't?" I say. "Why not?" "I just don't think so." "Well, maybe you should talk to your uncle about that." There. Successfully passed off to the person that wanted me there in the first place. But I didn't want to be there. It wasn't my deal. So why was I?