We arrived in the Thompson station sometime in the late morning. It felt good to be mobile again because Anna had chosen to rest her head on my shoulder and did not move it for the entirety of the ride.
“Let’s get lunch, darling,” Annabelle said as we walked arm in arm down the busy sidewalk. She was holding onto me very tightly, trusting that I wouldn’t lead her into any obstacles. I passed a number of establishments I thought were sufficient to dine in. I would say the name and Anna would say no and we would keep walking. As luck would have it, Annabelle finally said yes to the café with the French name I had dined in when I was last in the city, almost two years ago. We walked in and the man with the mustache was still at the bar cleaning glasses with a rag like he had been when I left
