Muffin made an exasperated face. "They end up  there."

"They stop?"

"What else would they do?"

"All the planets and the stars and all?"

"Mm-hmm."

"People too?"

"Sure."

He thought for a second. "In perfect frozen moments, right?"

"Right."

Uncle Dave leaned his head against the window like he was tired and sad. Maybe he was. The sun was coming up over the housetops now. "Bus drivers driving their buses," he said softly, "and farmers milking their cows... the whole world like a coffee-table book."

"I think you’d like to be in a church, Uncle Dave," Muffin said. "Or maybe walking alone along the lakeshore."

"Maybe." He smiled, all sad. "Who are you, Muffin?"

"I’m me, dummy," she answered, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss.

He left us in front of the warehouse by the lake. "I’m going to walk down to the Rowing Club and back." He laughed a little. "If I do get back, Muffin, I’ll have your parents ground you forever!"

"Bye, Uncle Dave," she said, hugging him.

I hugged him too. "Bye, Uncle Dave."

"Don’t let her do anything stupid," he said to me. We watched for a while as he walked away, but he never turned back.

Up on the warehouse roof, there was a monk waiting with a McDonald’s bag under his arm. He handed it to Muffin, then kneeled. "Bless me, Holy One."

"You’re blessed," she said after looking in the bag. "Now get going to the temple. There’s only ten minutes left."

The monk hurried off, singing what I think was a hymn. We got into the plane-boat and I helped Muffin strap herself into one of the big padded seats. "The thing is," she said, "when the earth stops turning, we’re going to keep on going."

"Hey, I know about momentum," I answered. I mean, Dad is a physicist.