Spadina streetcar, fumbling for a pen.

Caucasian woman, late 30s, wearing a black parka and blue scarf, hair tucked behind her ears, a loose strand tickling her cheek.

Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris (Little, Brown)

Page 74:

My father loved the Great Dane for its size, and frequently took her on long, aimless drives, during which she'd stick her heavy, anvil-sized head out the window and leak great quantities of foamy saliva.

The hula hoop sat centre of the yard obscured by the grass. She stood tippy-toed on the other side of the fence and considered her approach. Two of them, one of her. Eight legs versus two. Two jowls to none. She opted for sidewalk hopscotch.