#plus.starter

Jack left his apartment in just his jeans and a tee and holding his skateboard and a bag strung over his shoulders. He made his way out onto street, with the and the moon with clouds watermarking the sky around it in a haze. It still felt disgustingly hot with the sun setting on the west side where the sky was a dash of oranges fading into lavender and then into midnight blue. A heat wave was rolling into Toronto; that was what all the news channels say. 

Okay, that was what Ming said, because Jack didn’t watch the news. But he could believe it. The air smelled like sulfur and sewage. It tasted like cooked cabbage on his tongue; cooked cabbage and the heady perfume of flowers and pine.

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering if he did something reckless that night, he could say the heat was to blame. Mrs. Dunwitty told him once that hot weather drove people crazy. Murder rates went up. People started driving like psychopaths. Theft shot through the roof. If the sun could be used as an excuse for shooting your neighbor, why not something stupidly harmless?

Jack makes a turn at the end of the old park, and then across the street that badly needed paving. "Shit." What he didn't expect was for a figure to emerge from behind that four-door SUV causing for him to swerve violently and smack his face on the sideview mirror. It jerked his head back and as he falls flat on his ass the board flies back to the other side of the street. Jack's too busy holding his nose to realize he bent the mirror back. 

The interview was over and it was only eleven a.m. His potential manager assured that they would be in touch and then mumbled something about HR, which Jack took as his cue to leave. He stepped out of the restaurant and into the sunlight, wincing under the harsh glare of it. The pavement was cracked and unsteady beneath his feet. Heat rose off it in waves. His pants were scratchy and button down stiff, but Jack only debated between going home to get out of his interview clothes and heading to Cafe Plus for half a second. As much as dressing grunge-y and down felt more comfortable the thought of iced coffee won.

On the walk to the coffee shop, Jack focused on the dirt between the cracks on the unnaturally white sidewalk, sweat pooling in the palms of his hands from how the summer day was warming up. Jack only stopped at the door, rubber soled sneakers skidding on the concrete, to hold it for someone on their way out. What was one person turned into two and then three as they emerged from the inside precariously balancing their freshly made beverages, and then after Jack finally slipped in and took note of how unusually spacious it was. Most times Plus was crowded and bustling but it must have been a good hour for anyone to come in and seek some quiet.