I took a sip of lemonade. We sat beneath a canopy amidst a large field of golden summer grass.

“That must have been so incredibly boring, growing up in the suburbs.” My back was to the sun, so she squinted as she spoke.

“Nah,” I said, “it wasn’t too bad. Yeah, there weren’t too many people, and the town wasn’t the most happening place on earth, but I still had a great time.”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the most exciting, exotic place you’ve ever been?”

“Paris, France.” She moved a light brown wisp of hair from her eyes.

“Now, are your best memories about the actual things you saw or of the people with whom you vacationed?”

“Hmm. More about the actual things I saw.”

“I see.” I took another sip.

“I mean, Mike, it’s Paris.”

I looked down at my glass. Crescent-shaped ice cubes were melting.

“I think living in a small town isn’t any different from living in Paris. Eventually you run out of places to go and things to see and it all comes back to who’s standing next to you.”

“But Mike -”

As she spoke she lifted her glass to her lips, tipped it back and took two ice cubes into her mouth. Her cheeks made shapes as she moved the ice around. She crunched down hard. Her words were slightly garbled when she spoke again, and she moved her left hand quickly to catch the water dripping from her lower lip.

“- it’s Paris.”