A woman at an art opening mistakes me for someone she knows. ‘Maybe I’m him,’ I say ironically. She laughs. I expect her to walk off, chagrined at her mistake, but instead she buttonholes me, interrogating me about the artwork we’re both looking at. ‘Do you know the price?’ she asks. I don’t, but she doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, and insists that I hazard a guess. I throw the question back at her: ‘Why don’t you guess, and I’ll say higher or lower.’ She guesses twenty thousand. I raise my eyebrows. ‘Higher,’ I say, and walk away.