Lights dim, projectors whirred (in reality we were outside but use your imagination), and suddenly we were no longer in Paris but at a mid-century drive-in theater, complete with popcorn in hand.
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It must have been about 100° in that concrete parking garage, the kind of heat that makes you hyper-aware of your body, your breath, the faint flutter of air when someone’s handheld fan passes too close. We waited, patiently and glistening, for the show to begin.
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