5
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Popcorn and chemical cleaner sting the air as Tad and I move into the theater while the lights are still up. It’s a good forty minutes before the film is about to start. A man in a red apron sweeps the front aisles.
We settle into row 18, seats C and D, and I follow Tad’s instructions. I spend several moments with my eyes closed, stretching my senses to taste more than butter and salt and Lysol. The room is chock-full of emotions—because what is a movie if not a petri dish for the whole spectrum of human experience?
Five minutes pass. Tad waits, quiet but eager.
How the heck am I going to find her in all this mess?
“Can’t you do this? Can’t you find her?”
He chews his lip. “I guess I could...I thought you’d be able to sense her, since you’re so close.” He means si
