Palindrome

I winked.

"I've got a better idea," I said.

"I wouldn't bet on it," said Emmy.

"Isn't it closed minded not to try?" I asked.

"No," said Emmy.

"Do you see my point now?" I asked. "You wouldn't?" As I said this, I crossed my arms and smirked as though I had made some convincing point.

"No," said Emmy, as she walked away from me.

"Come on, be a pal," I said. My grin only made her more tense.

She turned around.

"No!" yelled Emmy. "You're talking about drinking your soul as medicine. It's holy, stupid! You aren't a well!"

She looked at me with fire in her eyes.

"It's not a soul," I said. "Don't be such a rube."

At this point, Emmy became agitated and pulled at her hair. The resulting frizz belied her attempt at calm, rational debate.

"It's not your soul...?" said Emmy. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"It is a soul?" I asked.

"What do you seriously think it is?" she asked.

"I didn't know you were religious," I said.

"I really thought you knew me," said Emmy. Disbelief darkened her face.

"I really think you should reconsider 'spirit medicine'," I said. "I know. The placebo effect is real, butt. Soul food. Ha."

"It does work with patients?" she asked.

"Yes, it does," I said.

"Does it matter to you that the idea bothers me?" asked Emmy.

"Of course," I replied.

"I really do think it's your soul. That was your question," she said.

"I thought doctors were supposed to know better than such nonsense," I said.

"Honey, we aren't a pear. I don't wanna eat you," said Emmy.

"Oh, wow, who's a prude all of a sudden?" I said.

"If it was a soul, would you eat me if the roles were reversed? " asked Emmy slowly.

Emmy sighed and looked into my eyes. The silence lingered.

I sighed and looked into Emmy's eyes. The silence lingered.

"If it was a soul, would I eat you if the roles were reversed..." I repeated slowly.

"Oh, wow, who's a prude all of a sudden?" she said.

"Honey, we aren't a pair, I don't wanna eat you," I said.

"I thought doctors were supposed to know better than such nonsense," said Emmy.

"I really do. Think...it's your soul? That was your question" I said.

"Of course," Emmy replied.

"Does it matter to you that the idea bothers me?" I asked.

"Yes, it does," she said.

"It does work with patience," I said.

"I really think you should reconsider spirit medicine," said Emmy. "I know the placebo effect is real, but soul food? Ha?"

"I really thought you knew me," I said. Disbelief darkened my face.

"I didn't know you. We're religious," said Emmy.

"What do you seriously think it is?" I asked.

"It is a soul," she said.

"It's not your soul," I said. "Do you even hear yourself?"

At this point, I became agitated and pulled at my hair. The resulting frizz belied my attempt at calm, rational debate.

"It's not your soul?" asked Emmy. "Don't be such a rube."

I looked at her with fire in my eyes.

"No!" I yelled. "YOU'RE talking about drinking your soul as medicine. It's wholly stupid. You aren't...uh...well."

I turned around.

"Come on, be a pal," said Emmy. Her grin only made me more tense.

"No," I said, as I walked away from her.

"Do you see my point now?" asked Emmy. "You wouldn't!" As she said this, she crossed her arms and smirked as though she had made some convincing point.

"No," I said.

"Isn't it closed minded not to try?" asked Emmy.

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said.

"I've got a better idea..." said Emmy.

She winked.