Movement of Truth

The woman on the motorcycle believed the rhinoceros was dangerous, so she guarded his glass cube day and night. Inside, the rhinoceros believed she was his jailer, so he showed her only his horns. Each collected evidence for the story already chosen. During a storm the cube rotated, placing the woman inside and the rhinoceros outside.

Terror changed sides. She saw the scratches he had made searching for a door; he saw the blanket she had left beside the glass each winter. Neither story had been wholly false, and neither had been complete.

When the storm passed, they did not return the cube to its old position. They rolled it between them like a lens, moving whenever certainty grew too comfortable. Truth, they discovered, needed room to change places.