the smuggler’s bible

Noemi

Noemi has a mathematical proof in her notebook that demonstrates perfectly and completely that when a person leaves her office and turns toward the stairs, it is (counterintuitively) the hallway which begins to move.

“At least take it to the dean.”

“I had intended to.”

“But?”

“But I am finding it difficult to leave the room,” Noemi says, sweating. “It’s like an escalator. Think too hard about the dismount and you’ll eat shit at the top. Well, Jesus, it’s three flights and who knows how fast you’re really going.”

“Okay, I get it. He does have an email address, though.”