His hand in mine leads me up the stairs, through the door on the side marked: CN TOWER.
Funny, you almost miss it beside the big overblown restaurant and souvenir signs. Maybe that’s the point: misleading unwary tourists into purchases instead of experiences.
Then again, it’s easy to spot others being misled; it’s not always so easy when it’s yourself. What would others see when they looked at my life?
A frightened fool, walking straight into the trap? A clueless i***t, not asking questions when her albino enemy opens the door easily, even though it should be locked, even though the whole place should be closed? Walking, no questions asked, toward her doom.
“So, you own the CN Tower, basically?” I finally ask.
We’re weaving through the lobby, which is basically a sea of shop stands, e
