Bob
When I was a teenager I enjoyed going to the Odeon. The theatre showcased old films that had long been forgotten, their stories a flitting memory in our minds. I would buy a bag of hot popcorn coated with sweet butter and sit at the edge of the auditorium, my eyes glued to the large screen. Not many people came back then. Not many people enjoyed reliving classics like Rush Hour, James Bond, or Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Going there was my safe haven. It was where I would go to get away from Darren’s malicious acts, my father’s pressure, and my mother’s constant coddling. For as long as I could remember, I had believed that my company was enough, that I truly belonged when I was alone.
Well, until Sue came along.
In one of the films I used to go to watch, I recall a particular one whe
