Once on the large terrace, you felt the cold evening wind hit you in the face, stirring your loose hair. The stars were visible and there was complete silence except for the rustling of leaves and the buzzing of crickets.

“Assuming that 'yes' means 'no' and 'once' means 'never,' how many sides does a triangle have?”

The question had fallen from the sky. You looked up directly and saw a young man sitting on the edge of a balcony, balancing precariously on the wrought iron railing... visibly drunk. He was shirtless, and his brown hair was disheveled.