Once a small-town movie house that navigated the local market with bumbling charm, the Garden Theatre has grown into an exhibit of Old Princeton nostalgia under its new management. This is all well and good for Princeton’s polished and intellectual reputation, but I’ll miss the old Garden’s cozy modesty.
When I called Rachel, she answered the phone cheerfully. I should have listened more carefully to that tone, should have let it linger longer before I brought the sky crashing down over her. Last year, around this time, just as the weather was starting to turn and leaves began popping up on all the trees, our uncle died in his sleep; our grandparents were visiting for the week and found him the next morning.
