18
Their small booth on the second-floor balcony of a trendy bar in Vancouver was lit by a Tiffany lamp that cast colourful light on the brick wall and wooden tabletop. Up here, the music was quiet enough to allow for pleasant conversation.
Jena sat on one bench with hands on her knees, frowning at a menu. “You're sure about this?” she said, arching a thin eyebrow. “Because I like a little protein in my diet.”
Across from her, young Anna had her back pressed against the seat cushion, her eyes shut tight. “Yeah, I know,” the girl said. “I didn't realize it when I first came here, but these people actually kill animals for their meat.”
“So you're a vegetarian until you go back home?”
“Essentially.”
Jena crossed her arms, then turned her head to direct a tight frown at the wall. “You go
