Spadina Streetcar, The Strawberry Blonde

Caucasian woman, late 30s, with strawberry blonde hair, wearing an eggshell blue dress shirt and grey skirt, buckled with a broad white belt. Her shoulders slump forward; her mouth hangs loose and open. She looks like a traveller on the second of three flights.

Lost in a Good Book, Jasper Fforde (McArthur & Co.)

Page 237:

The incident I am about to relate took place in the winter of the year 1985, at a place whose name even now, for reasons of propriety, it seems safer not to divulge.

She stands at the grocery check out, her three year old tugging playfully at her sleeve. She pulls him into her arms without looking down. He drops his head against her chest, his sweet breath rising onto her tongue. The scanner beeps a week's worth. Her son tickles her ear lobe, babbling incoherent renditions of his favourite TV show theme song. She isn't listening. She's looking at the stand near the coin counter advertising a draw for a free barbecue. She's wondering where those names end up, on what list, for which company, for what unsolicited phone call too late at night. She's wondering if, just this once, she can take the chance that he won't find her.