Where he’s from

September 22, 2009

At the base of The Man, the Ranger imparted information in an accent spiked with flatness and a hint of the colonial, his hands clasped behind him, his open smile friendly and warm, even though he was behind a caution-tape barrier.

“Where are you from?” she asked. After all, it seemed we had already run into so many Canadians, as if the borders had opened up all at the same time, flooding Nevada with our Northern neighbors.

“My mother,” he said, straight-faced just long enough to see our mouths drop open before bursting into loud, warm, staccato laughter.

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