Guest Vignette by Arnab Majumdar Professional Writer Extraordinaire
I find myself in a dusty corner of Toronto’s Kensington Market, working in a French diner with 1-star yelp reviews. I grab the mop with bleached and burned fingers, scanning the tables in an ever-increasing paranoia of bumping into someone from my past. Out in the distance I make out the skyscraper at First Canadian Place, that plain jewel of my ambitions where I sat just moments before. Uganda isn’t Canada, she explained. You’ll have to prove yourself. Stepping out to the floor, I catch the face of my father in the mirror, laughing at the overlap between his journey abroad and my return home. By the cash register the owner fires the recent illegal hire. I remember to go pick up my suit.
I find myself in a dusty corner of Toronto’s Kensington Market, working in a French diner with 1-star yelp reviews. I grab the mop with bleached and burned fingers, scanning the tables in an ever-increasing paranoia of bumping into someone from my past. Out in the distance I make out the skyscraper at First Canadian Place, that plain jewel of my ambitions where I sat just moments before. Uganda isn’t Canada, she explained. You’ll have to prove yourself. Stepping out to the floor, I catch the face of my father in the mirror, laughing at the overlap between his journey abroad and my return home. By the cash register the owner fires the recent illegal hire. I remember to go pick up my suit.
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