Parc Jeanne Mance, on the grass near Esplanade
Female, 20s, dark curly hair. Wearing a yellow dress, lying on a blanket.
The Flying Troutmans, Miriam Toews (Knopf)
Page 33:
That night Logan came home drunk. I heard him fall down in the kitchen. I went in and switched on the light and he said, Oh man, dude, that is a seriously diaphanous nightgown you’ve got on. I switched the light off again and knelt down beside his head. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed. He wanted to stay there.
Day. Full sun.
Noveline: People always picture angels wearing nightgowns, don’t they? But just imagine the drafts. (shudders) I think heaven would be a place where everyone could wear pyjamas all the time.
Romana: (looking over) Then I guess we’re already there.
