Ottawa: Britannia Beach

ottawa A collective gasp seems to permeate the room along with the smell of red meat. It is only as I add my hamburger hash to the table that I realize I have been invited to a vegetarian pot luck.

I walk 12 kilometers to Jesse’s house in the dead of winter. The last communication I have with her is written with my frozen fingers in the snow on her front yard.

They spend the night in their orange VW minivan parked in my driveway. The only time they come in is to shower in the morning.

He is like a carefully calibrated time bomb, set to detonate at the moment of greatest potential destruction. I fall upon him, shielding her from as much damage as possible.