Bloor Line, eager and waiting at Spadina Station.

Caucasian woman, late 20s, with blond hair tucked under a knitted cap with large red flower, wearing red jacket, black and white plaid shirt, and black galoshes.

Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra (HarperCollins)

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A white Pomeranian named Fluffy flew out of a fifth-floor window in Panna, which was a brand-new building with the painter's scaffolding still around it. Fluffy screamed in her little lap-dog voice all the way down, like a little white kettle losing steam, bounced off the bonnet of a Cielo, and skidded to a halt near the rank of schoolgirls waiting for the St Mary's Convent bus.

One train passes, the next approaches. She leans on the edge of the bench, back straight, skirt flat, and pretends to read. The doors open and he stands looking both ways, his backpack pulling on his shoulder, a 10 lb bag of Caramel Apple Jelly Bellys weighing it down. The waist of his jeans are still wet. She shaved this morning.