“What do you think,” says Mimi. “A wedding?”

The woman is wearing a white ball gown. She holds the sides of the skirt out like a fan and turns one way and then the other as the photographer follows her with a camera. The groom stands behind her as still as a statue, his tuxedo jacket open, his thumbs tucked into black suspenders.

“Remember Santorini?” says Mimi. “The little blue domed church in Oia with the couples lined up to have their photographs taken?”

Suddenly, the man begins dancing around his bride, stopping every few steps and freezing in an action position that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with a wedding. The woman continues swaying from side to side, her dress floating around her like a soft breeze.

The man stops and strikes a pose, his arms crossed, one foot in front of the other, his chin up, his eyes fixed on the sky. The woman slides in behind him and drapes herself over his shoulders.

As though she were an accessory.

Mimi leans into me. “You want me to dress up in a wedding gown and wrap myself around you?”

According to the guidebook, Prague Castle is the largest castle in the world.

“Where do you want to start? There’s the Old Royal Palace, St. Vitus Cathedral, St. George’s Basilica, along with the Picture Gallery and the Powder Tower.” Mimi looks at the flyer she got when she bought the tickets. “But the tower is closed right now.”

“Too bad.”

“And there’s Golden Lane.”

“That’s where Oz said we should go.”

“Oz?”

“He’s the guy I talk to at breakfast,” I tell Mimi. “When you’re still asleep.”

Mimi looks at me sideways. “This Oz,” she says, “he happen to be a friend of Eugene?”

“Oz is real.” I don’t try to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “Eugene and the Other Demons are something you made up.”

“They’re real enough,” says Mimi. “I just gave them names.”

“If you would get up in the morning, I’d introduce the two of you.”

“This is what happens when you don’t get enough sleep,” says Mimi. “You get cranky.”

The good news is that the castle is not all that crowded. The bad news is that it’s boring.

“This is Vladislav Hall,” Mimi tells me, as we stand on a vast stone floor with a web of arches overhead. “They used to bring horses in here for many of the celebrations.”

“Horses? How?”

“There’s a special ramp called the Knights’ Stairway.”

“What did they do with the you-know-what?”

“The hall is sixty metres long by sixteen metres wide.” Mimi stretches out her arms to show me the scale. “The arches are twelve metres off the floor.”