“Which one?” i asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, “I just can’t be with a person who isn’t willing to risk prison to be with me."
So she took me to the Met & I went inside, and through labyrinthine galleries, filled with paintings that I am now fairly certain aren’t in the Met. But there were security guards and people everywhere. Finally, I walked into a room with several very modern looking reclining couches in it, black and silver, the room was empty, and a wall jutted out preventing the security guards in the next room from seeing me — and on the other side of that wall, there was a painting, of Roswell, painted on a dried whole wheat pita. It was held onto the wall by three L shaped hooks. I slid it out and held the painted side face down, so people would think that I was just carrying food out. I went out a side door of the museum and
I gave her the pita.
“You stole the Mona Lisa!” she said excitedly when she saw it.
I knew it wasn’t the Mona Lisa but I didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid she'd realize it was just a painting of Roswell on a pita.
Later I woke up.
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