We tried to reach an agreement with the writer: I won’t be too stubborn, but he’ll write whatever I think, whatever I want. He promised me. I wanted the story to take place by a lake. In the distance, a purple mountain with white stripes on it—that is, snowy places too. A small, charming mountain. I’ve opened up my sun lounger, stretched out, and I’m watching what’s around me. The surface of the lake, perfectly smooth. The reflections of the trees on the water look as real as the trees themselves.

Actually, I wanted the exact opposite; I wanted the reflection of the lake to form on the trees, but apparently that couldn’t be done. Still, it’s very beautiful, very calm; I’m in silence all the way to my mind. I hear only one sound. You can hear it too; let me describe it: wet your lips a little and press them together, then slowly start parting them. A sound like “mip,” “pip” will come out. That’s the sound I hear from different parts of the lake now and then. I think a drop of dew slides down a branch and falls into the water. If I stayed here until evening, this would be the only sound I’d hear. Maybe the writer can do something.

 “Couldn’t you have a beautiful woman walk along the shore of the lake?”

Yes, she’s coming. She really is a very beautiful woman. Red bobbed hair, fair skin, incredible eyes—oh my God, I’ve never seen such deep blue eyes in my life. Wow. The woman just walked past without even saying hello to me. She gave me one look, then turned her head toward the lake as if I wasn’t there and kept walking. It’s because of the writer. I’m sure it’s because of the writer.

 “What kind of outfit did you imagine for me? The woman didn’t even look at me.”

 Now I’m wearing a stylish sporty outfit. My shoes are a little too formal, but that’s fine. I look well-groomed.

 “Can’t you have a bunch of women pass by? Why do you have the most beautiful woman in the world walk past and make a fool of me?”

Okay, the red-haired woman is coming back, and from the opposite direction two more women are coming, arm in arm. They’re too beautiful as well. Oh wow, the one who looks like Ava Gardner looked at me and smiled. I nodded to her. I should try not to look fake.

 “They just walked right past me again.”

 “What are you expecting, Antigonist? Really, tell me, and I’ll write accordingly.”

 “Can we change gender in the middle of the story?”

 “Well. Yes.”

 “Okay, make me that red-haired woman. And put a man who looks like me in my place.”

Good, I’m walking along the edge of the lake now, trying to get used to the smallness of my feet. Ahead, beside the sun lounger, there’s a man. A strange one. He’s standing there in a sporty-looking outfit, one hand in his pocket, his feet crossed, the toe of his right shoe touching the ground. He’s trying to look cool. Is he an idiot or what? The guy is standing there like a model beside a lake I wouldn’t even be able to find on a map. As I pass him, I’d better turn my head so I don’t laugh. The guy shouldn’t think he’s something.

 “This didn’t work either.”

 “What do you want, Antigo? Tell me.”

“Make me... you know, there’s this girl, right? She’s in love with a boy, but the boy is in love with the girl the other boy is in love with, and the girl is in love with the other boy. Then the KGB comes along and accidentally puts drops in the other boy’s eye, and the boy falls in love with the girl who’s in love with the other boy. That girl. Make me her.”

 “That’s not the KGB, you maniac. It’s Puck. And the girl is Hermia.”

 “Whatever. Make me Hermia.”

 “Whatever you’re going to do, do it as Hermia...”

“The other characters are missing now too.”

 “Right. Let me rewrite A Midsummer Night’s Dream from scratch by the lake for you.”

 “True. That would be ridiculous. I’ve got an idea.”

 “What is it, Antigo?”

 “I’m a sun lounger. People come and sit on me; they don’t start Shakespearing with my personality, and I don’t have any existential problems either”

 Maybe the costume would look better without the stripes, in some plain pastel color. Aha, looks like the red-haired woman and the man in the sporty outfit are going to sit on me. That’s life.