If my life were a movie
there would be a sunset
and the camera would pan away
— the prophet ani
—

In the morning, I ask Mo what happened.

She says I wasn’t hyperventilating at all; that I stopped breathing. And that she wasn’t shaking me; she was punching. I guess. I was asleep at the time.

I describe the movie to her.

“So there was no white light at the end?” she asks.

“Not unless God is Al Pacino,” I reply.

“Inconclusive,” she decides.

Life goes on. I spend the morning singing “what if no one’s watching” and thinking about Caballo Blanco.

What if? A day later, it makes sense.