“I thought I saw your father yesterday.” said Dmitry, as he guided his knight to the defeat of his opponent’s bishop. “In the market, buying tulips. He was wearing a blue suit, no tie, a long tawny coat, and a grey tartan scarf. He carried a wine red umbrella: the forecast for the day had misled the rest of us, as had the bright sun of the earlier morning. He was almost alone at the stalls, the other customers had fled to seek shelter from the downpour for which they were so unprepared. It took me a while to remember that it couldn’t be him. And now, I am sorry, I know it wasn’t him. But for the ten seconds or so when I had not remembered, when I had forgotten logic, there he was, standing right in front of me, dry in the rain.”