"Raaawwwk," a cockatoo in the branches answered back. Kim lit a cigarette.
Laptop PCs and plasma screen TV's attached to leashes littered the walks that crossed Rittenhouse Square Park.
"When I decided to major in Library Science," Carol said, "my father didn't speak to me for a year. He thought I'd never marry. I think he was confused about the difference between 'librarian' and 'lesbian'. The words sounded similar, you know. He was a gentle man, and a good provider for my mother, but he was never very good with polysyllables. He sent me away to college because that was what you were supposed to do. He was shocked when I came back different. New opinions, new clothes. Cigarettes. Socialism. He never quite recovered."