Kim visits Montreal
It's not that difficult to find Sylvain Gagné's restaurant. It is, as Meg said, written up in several guidebooks.
And late morning isn't a bad time to arrive, at least on weekdays -- the breakfast crowd has gone, the lunch crowd isn't really there yet. There's no line out the door, no wait to be seated, just a hadful of patrons lingering over coffee at the tables on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
It's a beautiful summer day in Montreal.
And late morning isn't a bad time to arrive, at least on weekdays -- the breakfast crowd has gone, the lunch crowd isn't really there yet. There's no line out the door, no wait to be seated, just a hadful of patrons lingering over coffee at the tables on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.
It's a beautiful summer day in Montreal.

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She shrugs.
"It's the point of university, right? To learn things?"
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Beat.
"French included."
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"Oh, that's much better to learn as an extracirrucular."
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"I'll take your word for it. I mean, you're the expert!"
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"Hmmmm. You'll have to, because I am not sharing my tutor.
"I'm really glad you came today."
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"And maybe, if you want -- I'd love to have you come for a visit in Glastonbury, someday."
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"I was going to say that could be complicated, with planes and time and all . . . but . . . I guess it doesn't have to be, does it?"
There's a shortcut.
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Kim picks up her glass and raises it in a cheerful toast.
"--let's just enjoy being here."
A beat, and a quick grin.
"Because along with everything else? The food is fabulous."
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"But so that we're clear -- if you try to eat half my dinner, I may be forced to stab you with my fork."