“Anyways . . . This is me right now. Feeling crappy, sitting in the park with Space Girl.”
She burst out laughing.
“Space Girl? Oh my god, that’s hilarious!”
I turned to her, blushing, happy to be there with her. Smiling. Happy to be there. To show her this place. Happy to be with her and to hear her voice and her laughter as we sat alone together.
+ + +
AFTER EXTENSIVE PERSUASION I took her to a bar. If we were to have only one thing in common, it would be a proper Canadian outing: alcohol on an outdoor patio in late spring. I didn’t know why, but the fact that she came from the future seemed to obscure the fact that she lived in the same city I did, yet I acted as if I were hosting a foreign exchange student.
I drank Bushmills and she drank red wine. She was intensely interested in
