Lindsay calls them the Pugs: pretty from far away, ugly up close.

Are you sure you can't dematerialize? Not even a little?"
"I'm sure.

The secret is,” I say, whispering right into his ear, “that yours was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.”
“But I’ve never kissed you,” he whispers back. Around us the rain sounds like falling glass. “Not since third grade, anyway.”
I smile, but I’m not sure if he can see it.
“Better get started, then,” I say, “because I don’t have much time.

I shiver, thinking about how easy it is to be totally wrong about people-- to see one tiny part of them and confuse it for the whole, to see the cause and think it's the effect or vice versa.

Everything has taken on a strange, distant quality - the sounds of running and shouting outside get warped and weird like they're being filtered through water, and Alex looks miles away. I start to think I might be dreaming, or about to pass out.
And then I decide I'm definitely dreaming, because as I'm watching, Alex starts peeling his shirt off over his head.

Do flat-earthers believe that other planets are also flat?