It's been a quiet ride all the way to downtown Vancouver. Carl has found parking on Hamilton Street, not far from the library, and we stop in a Seven Eleven to pick up cream for our coffee, which should still be palatable from my fridge freezer. Both my new friends walk with care, and vigilance. And I am feeling the same, having been in the mountains this past week. The traffic, though light on a Sunday afternoon, seems dense, relentless and rocket speed. The young Filipina woman working at the store appears perplexed by us for some reason, but I think because we are so obviously out of place here. While Carl is studying the rack of chocolate bars, I whisper to François, "Distract him before he tries to pay for this", and as I am finishing the transaction for the cream and a large bag of barbecue chips, Francois has been directing Carl's attention to the Coliseumesque grandeur of the public library across the street. Seeing me receive change, since I am paying in cash this time, Carl bursts out laughing."nice work you guys!" and while we are all sharing the laugh at the success of our little foil, he grabs two fistfulls of random chocolate bars, drops them on the counter and produces his credit card.
In the mail I collect only a notice of a public hearing for a redevelopment notice and a letter from Canada Revenue. The elevator takes us up to the thirty-first floor, and I open the door to my little downtown condo...
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