The elephant dragged its feet. Meanwhile a man with a mustache spun in circles. A pink tutu hung limply around his waist, and the cigar held loosely in his mouth dropped ash onto the pavement. Olivia hated art movies, but she had agreed to join Richard. It was something about him wanting to impress his artsy friends. He didn't even know what all this meant. Olivia was sure that no one in the room did.

It was a little like placing a few blocks in a room and calling it art. She had gone to a museum with Emily recently. Emily had been told off by a guard for walking through the exhibit when she stepped through a series of blocks to see the Warhol artwork on the opposite wall. They had laughed after the guard almost kicked them out. Too bad this movie couldn't be like that. Instead it would be a bunch of pretentious talk over kambucha afterward.