Never drop your stick unless it’s broken, let them pry it out of your cold dead hands, he thought. They were done skating off the ice, the pride of ...tlantic Canada, the hands that held high the torch from McRae’s poem in the old Forum. ‘To you from failing hands we throw The torch, be yours to hold it high.’ When he was young, when life could still be beautiful for a kid from Sydney Mines going to play in the National Hockey League, when he could still dream without sneering, those words were. No one was in sight there to call him home, and the dog didn’t seem to be missed.Katy followed her mom’s eyes and also noticed no was minding the dog. At first she thought her mom might be looking for help from the dog’s owners. Then she saw Keryl’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, and Katy, sitting higher in her seat to see, smirked as her eyes spied the dog’s long, bright pink tongue swirl at her mother’s bare thigh, then over the crotch of her camp shorts. She wasn’t the least bit surprised. More

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