The old marquee is what started it all. It advertised a movie neither of us had seen. In fact, nobody seemed to know anything about the title. Gin was a movie buff—sometimes, it seemed to be the only human thing about him—and the mixture of the only local theatre’s perpetual closure as well as that sign advertising a movie he had never seen or heard of, well, it was just too much. He was like that, fixated. He couldn’t let anything go. The first thing he did once I was inside was pull me over to a poster.
The Keeper’s Fare
Tale Told 