On an early afternoon as I sat on a bench in Stebly Park reading the book, The Itinerant Life of Triach, and as the glow of sunlight amplified the surroundings—the freshly manicured lawns, the crisp hedges, the brilliant daisy fields, and the flourishing oak trees—giving them a surreal accent, I struck up a conversation with a woman who by some oddity found it fitting to sit beside me. Her auburn hair and blue eyes only did more to catch the light and amplify the day’s luster. With her were her two children—an infant boy inside a carriage and a little girl in a pink dress of about four years of age. Both of them shared the same vibrant features of their mother. It was just such a day to make conversation with strangers and enjoy the qualities of a resplendent afternoon.
We spoke of her children and husband and of my eccentric endeavors—my specialization within the field of teleportation—including my feeble attempts at summarizing the book I held between my hands. Though our lives were noticeably polar, our conversation excelled through laughter, understanding, and positivity. Surprisingly, throughout our engagement, the children were cooperative and made few interruptions.