Toronto the Not So Good Anymore
A forensic identification services van blocks the entrance to the gas station. The other entrance has yellow crime scene tape restricting entry. This will not do. I need a slushie and I need it bad. The gas station serves slushies par excellence. That's French for excellent, I think. Anyway, they know me at the gas station, it's just down the street from my place. I am a preferred customer, according to my slushie card that gives me a free slushie after I buy 20. "Why do you come here, miss? Why don't you have a car?" the chap behind the counter once asked. "Because, sir, your slushies are a revelation." He had his back to me while I replied. It was a rhetorical question I realized much later in the day. ...