Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Spadina streetcar, nose twitching.

East Indian male, mid 20s, wearing a blue polo shirt, faded jeans, leather sandals and a thin gold chain, carrying a black shoulder bag. His toes are pleasant.

The Black Company, Glen Cook (Tor Books)

Page One:

There were prodigies and portents enough, One-Eye says. We must blame ourselves for misinterpreting them. One-Eye's handicap in no way impairs his marvelous hindsight.

He lags behind, his family clipping after the tour guide, eager with questions. He inches his cell phone from his pocket, sets it to 'Camera' and lines up a grainy shot, the swollen ridges of the oak barrel, sets it as his screen saver. He unwraps a toffee, still soft from the van's dashboard and rests his forehead against the lid, cool, moist.

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