I asked her what she thought it meant.

I asked her what she thought it meant. "Well," she said, "I don't know that it means anything. But look, when someone ests a pen, usually he either writes the name of the color he's writing with, or his name. So the fact that 'Black' is written in red makes me think that Black is someone's name." "Or her name." "And I'll tell you something else." "Yeah?" "The b is capitalized. You wouldn't usually capitalize the first letter of a color." "Jose!" "Excuse me?" "Black was written by Black!" "What?" "Black was written by Black! I need to find Black!" She said, "If there's anything else I can help you ith, just let me know." "I love you." "Would you mind not shaking the tambourine in the store?" he walked away, and I stayed there for a bit, trying to catch up with my brain. I flipped back through the pad of paper while I thought about what Stephen Hawking would do next.