The Universe: Fiction or Nonfiction?

"Hey! What are you reading today?"

Some guy at Bean Bag was asking the woman sitting across from me. It was crowded around lunchtime last Wednesday, so she and I had split up our table: me with my laptop and coffee and she with her paperback book and chicken crepes.

She was large and middle-aged, and her face looked very tired. She'd been reading silently since she sat down. She looked up at the guy, looking slovenly in his loose-fitting hoodie, as if she knew him, but only casually, probably only from running into each other at Bean Bag. "It's about what happens after death," she said. "It started with reincarnation, then the weight of the soul. You know, how you lose 21 grams when you die?"

"Is it 21 grams?" he asked. "I knew it was something. I wonder if it's different for humans than animals, like 14 grams or something."

"Yeah, it's interesting," she said. "What are you reading?"

"I've got the latest book by Brian Greene. He explains the fabric of reality. You know string theory, all that."

"So is that nonfiction then?" she asked.

By now eavesdropping had taken over my work. What was up with these two? How did the young unshaven guy know the older woman? Why did they only seem to be chatting about what they were reading, not what they did over the weekend, how their families were or any other small talk?

And why were they asking such stupid follow-up questions? "Yes!" I wanted to scream, "A book about the fabric of the universe is inherently nonfiction." Who would read unreal books about reality??

Instead, the unshaven guy answered, "If it's fiction, I only read graphic novels. Fiction, like regular novels, don't really interest me. But graphic novels, they just suck me in."

"Yeah," was all she said.

"Anyway, I got up late, like at noon, and was like, 'Shit. I need to my start my day.' So I grabbed this book and came here for some breakfast."

"Yeah, I got started late today too," she said. "Good to see you. Tell me how the book goes."