Do you think I'm wonderful? she asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple.
No, he said.
Because so many girls are wonderful. I imagine hundreds of men have called their loves wonderful today, and it's only noon. You couldn't be something that hundreds of others are.
Are you saying that I am not-wonderful?
Yes, I am.
She fingered his dead arm. Do you think I am not-beautiful?
You are incredibly not-beautiful. You are the farthest possible thing from beautiful.
She unbuttoned his shirt.
Am I smart?
No. Of course not. I would never call you smart.
She kneeled to unbutton his pants.
Am I sexy?
You are not-funny.
Does that feel good?
Do you like it?
She unbuttoned her blouse. She leaned in against him.
Should I continue?
Jonathan Safran Foer
Everything is Illuminated