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Samantha's not gonna die, right?

Of course not, she'll be fine.

Her hair started falling out at a really bad time.

God, was she at work?

No, but she was definitely doing a job.

No.

Yes, ma'am.

She's a trouper, She'll be fine.

Yeah, I know. But according to my Russian friend, we are all in denial.

Why, what does he say?

It went like this: Him: "Your friend might die, yes?" Me: "No, you're an asshole." We had our first fight.

Yeah, I picked up on that.

I mean, this is a man who is so sensitive about so much. But then this: "Death, deal with it." I know he's Russian, but Jesus, come on.

Maybe it's the language barrier.

Well, it's definitely a barrier for me. Is this who I'm seeing, a man who kills mice and optimism?

it's not denial. They got it early, she's gonna be fine.

You are aware that you've said She'll be fine three times in half a block?

Yeah, I just picked up on that, too.

Anyway, how's it helping her, if we freak out about it? It is our job to think positive.

Exactly.

Can you believe we're actually having this conversation?

No, and here's another thing I never thought I'd be saying: Steve wants us to move to Brooklyn.

Okay, stop! Now that is information I can't handle.

I know. I can't move to Brooklyn. Even cabs won't go there.

My conversation with Miranda brought me back to reality.

Or, more specifically, the people who want us to live in it.

The world tells us to get real.

But what happens when living in reality means living in pain, fear...or Brooklyn?

If a defense mechanism can get us through the difficult times, how bad can it be?

Maybe the reality is, we need denial. Denial: friend or foe?