The Tallest Building in America

Paula ran the eleven o’clock walking tour in Chicago, and she leaned heavily on one guidebook, a thing the size of a brick that she carried in both hands.

The headline of the tour came on the bridge. “And there,” she said, “is the tallest building in America.”

A man at the back put his hand up. His hotel badge said Curtis.

“It hasn’t been the tallest since 2013,” he said.

Paula didn’t look up from the page. “This book cost me sixty dollars.”

“When?”

She turned the book over and read the back. Then she read it again, more slowly.

“…1994,” she said.

Nobody laughed. Curtis took his photo anyway.

Paula put the book in her bag. For the rest of the hour she used her head. It was lighter, and it was thirty years newer.