by Elizabeth Fournier.
In walked Van, wearing a beret, looking squeaky clean behind the ears, and ready to deliver something or another.
“Why don’t you come out of the shadows? What do you really look like? You’re afraid of something, aren’t you?”
Why did this sound so familiar? Where had I heard this before? I thought for a few minutes and finally twigged to it. He just quoted from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance verbatim. I smiled vaguely and felt the heavy burden of knowing we had an entire meal ahead of us.