Vancouver in spring, the best time of the year, a warm and sunny day. Crocuses popping their heads out of the ground. Cherry blossomed streets. Orangey pink sunsets.
Two old men, Henny and Bill, sitting on a memorial park bench overlooking English Bay, halfway between the Bath House and Second Beach in Stanley Park. Seven, black and orange tankers bobbed out in deep water, anchored against the tide. To the east, Burrard Bridge spanned the inlet to False Creek. Across the water, three huge kites soared high in the air over Kits Beach. If they strained their eyes hard enough, Jericho Beach lay to the southwest. A silhouette, a grayish green strip visible on the horizon, past the flat surface of the ocean, the Vancouver Island Mountains.
There was plenty of time, four hours until sunset. They opted for this bench, their favorite. The TV weather meteorologist promised, when the sun set, the skies might turn pink. The silhouette, the mountains far in the distance, acted as stage props, getting fainter until they melded with the blue gray of the sky.
Teaser!!! ;)
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