“Fish Creek Park was nearby, so I drove there and parked. We found a bench to sit on. She set her purse on the table. “I’ll start from the beginning,” she said. “My father owns a couple of movie theaters.” “But you drive a beat-up Volkswagen.” She smiled. “Now who is judging who by what they drive?” “No,” I said, “what I meant was that he could probably afford to buy you something better.” “Sure he could. But then it wouldn’t be mine, would it?” She was right, and I liked her for it. So I told m...yself not to like her. It didn’t work. A few seagulls squawked nearby. They were fighting over half a burger someone had left behind on the grass. Seagulls. Why were they called seagulls when this was the prairies? Or if they really were seagulls, what were they doing here when the nearest sea was so far away? These weren’t questions I would ask out loud. I had other questions for her. “Does your father own the theater in Kensington?” I asked. “No,” she said.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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