‘No,’ Emma called out. ‘Please don’t go! Please tell me – where am I? Why am I here? Who are you?’ They shook their heads, smiled, and lef... hurriedly, locking the door behind them. Emma surveyed the breakfast trolley, and felt suddenly hungry. Orange juice (freshly squeezed), a vast array of fresh fruit (each piece at the peak of ripeness), muesli and cereals of various types, milk and yoghurt, cold meats and smoked fish, cheeses, hard-boiled eggs, rolls and croissants, butter, marmalade, jams. “This is a strange place to park,” I commented. “Trust me,” Becca said. “It will make sense soon enough.” We unbuckled our seatbelts and climbed out of the vehicle. Then we walked around the building until we were at the front door. We entered the theater and purchased tickets for a movie called “Rachel's Raunchy Rodeo.” I started to head for the auditorium where the movie was showing, but Becca pointed me in the direction of the concession stand. “You want to get something to eat or drink. More

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