"...Think of it like a memory, Jack. All of it was real -- once. Or most of it."

She abandoned her playful chivalry for this moment. Reverently, she placed the bouquet of flowers on the top edge of the console. It shouldn't follow them in, she thought. But soon they would be back out and she could take them home and put them in a sweet little vase and maybe keep that vase on her windowsill. And then, perhaps, next time Jack would walk by and choose her window.

Buffy entered the smaller room and felt the simulation crackle into life around her. A street from the centre of the town. It ran right in front of the Magic Box. She breathed in, but it didn't smell like Sunnydale. The sun was not so far off from setting and a warm, Californian summer evening glow filled the spaces between buildings.

Oh well. Sight would have to do.