Late November settles over Toronto like a held breath.
The trees outside Mia's window have given up on leaves entirely, bare branches moving in the wind against a sky that starts going grey by four o'clock. Mia has been on the same group discussion thread for two hours, which is longer than she'd planned.
She hits send, closes the tab, and stretches until her spine makes three distinct complaints.
The browser is still open. A pop-up blinks at the edge of the screen—some kind of local event notification. She clicks it.
Diwali Festival Celebration—Nathan Phillips Square.
She reads the description slowly.
The Festival of Lights. She scrolls through photos from previous years. Streets were mapped in colored powder, rows of clay lamps, market stalls running as far as the camera can reach.
