Now it is Cheryl’s turn. Her eyes are as heavy as Hal has commanded: She is in that hypnosis state where day recedes and yesterday or ten years ago looms large.
“My husband and I go every year to Las Vegas. It’s part of his job,” she says, mumbling a bit.
“Speak louder,” Hal suggests. “I need to hear you.”
She dutifully repeats, much more clearly this time. “My husband and I go to Las Vegas every year. It’s part of his job.”
“And why does this trip make you think about shopping?” Hal asks.
“Because there’s always a very important, very glamorous cocktail party each year,” she says, as if this were self-evident.
“Where’s the shopping?” Hal asks evenly.
“For the dress. I need a great dress each ...