.. I’ll stick to,” she sighed at her bubbling flute, “the sparkling cider.”“Missing out on the old habits, eh?” My dad teased her. “Do y...u remember that weekend in Montreal? We’d lost Brian three times that Saturday night.”“I think it was more Brian trying to lose us.” She laughed. “I was so mad at him for wanting to take me along to the strip club.”“I wanted to take Larry and to a lesser extent dad.” I smiled. “I wasn’t going to leave you out.”“Strippers have never been my cup of tea.” Shani. One morning, huddled inside my overcoat as the train approaches, a blonde woman runs up and stands near me, waiting for the train to stop. People squint as a cold drizzle blows across the tracks into our faces and she is no exception. She’s probably in her late 30s or early 40s and she’s wearing an office outfit: skirt, jacket, white blouse. She is pretty — very pretty, in fact — with friendly, intelligent eyes. I let her board the train before me, planning to sit near enough to surreptitiously. More

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