Parisian Phoenix Publishing

“Hey, Dad,” a certain teenager said. “Can you come with my to the college library this weekend?”

“Why your Dad?” Mom asked. “I love the library.”

They went to look up photography book’s for the teenager’s digital photography class. She needed portraits, so she could select a portrait she liked and research the photographer.

The study spaces had been upgraded since Mom had attended the College a decade earlier. The Starbucks in the library had a very minimal menu. Most of the catalog computers were gone, no need for them with the multitude of devices on every student– the laptops, the tablets, the phones.

The teenager picked books that featured raw portraits, of domestic violence, of wounds, of missing limbs. Police. Fetuses. Mom played on the rack behind… fashion and food…

A hot coffee. An art exhibit.

A cold autumn day, sporting rain.