The lobster men are gearing up for the season. Every year, it's the same thing, and it goes off like clockwork. More boats are appearing in the harbors, and they're being loaded with traps. Soon lobster buoys will pepper the coves and bay. Everywhere you look, people will be busy making a living. The lobster men will all play their roles as perfect lobster men, the customers will all play their roles as perfect customers, and even the lobsters will cooperate by being perfect lobsters. Everyone will play their part perfectly, having recited it for most, if not all, of their lives. No one else will seek to be anything other than what they assume they are. It's a strange thing, this business of "making a living." It goes on like a perfectly choreographed dance. But I wonder . . . if the music stopped suddenly and the masks all fell off, how would each player "make" their life? Would they make a mad dash for their fallen mask? Would they find a new mask? Or would they simply live with the sudden realization that a mask was never necessary?