Dez & Marnie are sitting on their marital bed. She has headphones in, sitting cross-legged staring intently into her Macbook; he’s got puka shells around his neck and strums an acoustic guitar, bobbing his head at her, raising his brow, trying to get a look. It’s harmless but needy, like a puppy who deep down you don’t really love giving you eyes from across the room. Marnie takes her headphones off. “What are you staring at me about?” “What do you mean?” “You’re staring at me.” “I’m staring at you?” “You’re playing aggressive guitar at me.” “There’s nothing aggressive about that. It’s a ballad. I think it’s weird you haven’t said anything since noon.” This is the way a well-designed en media res goes; it’s what makes it so exciting. You see a situation, you get an interpretation, take it at face, infer a world (Marnie: cold and distant; modern technology: not helping.) Then there’s an update, a rebuttal—reality either rearing up and answering, contradicting the hubris of human inference, or else another subjectivity speaking for itself. Here we get the latter.