A man at a restaurant thinks he recognizes a woman seated alone at the next table. Could she be a famous author he just read? As the pieces of this miscalculation come together for the woman, we find that she is surprised to be noticed, and taken aback that she’s assumed to be a string theory expert. The scene flips an expected script of expectations: the pursuing man first marvels at her presumed authorial brilliance, and then moves on to her attractiveness. For a moment, the assumed identity seems a happy accident, allowing the woman to assume this ephemeral disguise, imagining herself exceedingly successful, respected, and desired. As in mythology, the masks fall away in the end.

The Theory of Everything dismantles the presumed fame of the woman, and she must admit she’s not actually the celebrated scientist, lamenting, “I really wanted to be someone else!” Furthermore, the woman reveals her marriage to a husband who thinks she’s “barely bright enough to order soup.” A note of tragedy colours the previously humorous misunderstanding. Chagrined but determined, the man assures her she’s still beautiful. Initially flattering, the stranger’s interest causes the woman to re-evaluate her greater circumstances, which could be motivation for change in the character’s life beyond this scene.

Though the scene places our two characters in a restaurant, the musical setting begins among the stars. Rapid triplet and 32nd note flurries in the piano suggest the constellations– string theory plays in the man’s head while the two characters open their conversation.

In the earthbound landscape of menu indecision and awkwardness, the piano mirrors the woman’s hesitation and the man’s grandiose flirtations. Her accompaniment retains hints of the starry background, but as the scene unravels the man’s grand expectations, the difference between his illusions and reality unfold in major-minor alterations.