Michael frowns at the foreign object Wolfgang discovered in his hair, then frowns at the pen in his hand, then takes the paper with the blonde’s notes on it and frowns as he reads. Some of their ideas are on the generic side, things many people might choose; others are more unique. He wonders why ‘space’ has a question mark and ‘polar bear’ doesn’t. Apparently Wolfgang’s pretty confident about the polar bear thing.
“I wouldn’t pick a church,” he says. “And you shouldn’t have to make one. Aren’t there enough of those in real life? Forget about it.” Leaning his weight back on his hands and arms and looking up at the ceiling, he sighs. “I dunno, though. Maybe being on the moon again. Or, uh… somewhere real high up. Like a cliff or a skyscraper. …No, okay, a beautiful tower on the moon, a thousand feet high, and there’s water below it, a bottomless moat that reflects the stars. Inside it’s quiet and private and only ours, and the windows look out on Mars and Earth. There would be a big telescope too. Pens and paper that never run out.”