Street Scene

Milky wisps escape the mouths of those descending along a chalky sidewalk. All are bundled in their Canadian morning winter protection. A cerulean sky upstages the bold signage of shops on either side of the wide uphill street. The low rumbling of car motors and soft footsteps convey peace.

His curiosity about those around him is effortlessly balanced with his loyal pace aside his master. The regal canine, whose coat combines the menacing Doberman colours with sweet Labrador looseness, is reveling in his Saturday stroll.

Sloppily bursting out the glass doors is a young man bent over leading with the back of his toque. He looks up revealing a broad smile matched by a bouquet of pink roses. Breathlessly muttering to himself, he seems to be rehearsing lines for a play.

A lady with a stretched posture and an unprotected crown of bouncing grey hair is striding past in a direct, perfect line with her determined ski poles. Her fire engine red sport jacket is pulled tight by the black straps of her knapsack. Without looking at her feet, she appears on a ski trail.

The front door to the grand Loblaws grocery store has a sign instructing patrons to please use the side door. Young and old, tall and short, each character approaching either reads the sign and then disappointingly tries the door or tries the door and then reads the sign in shock. A little frustrated, everyone makes their way to the side of the building.

Shoppers keep exiting that very same door. Those that want to enter look as if they have been unfairly treated. One girl watches studiously as another reads the sign and tries the locked door with no success. Once she is alone, she does the same with the same results.

Then one young boy whooshes past the sign and slides in while a man exits. He proceeds to search for his grocery items, oblivious that he has accomplished what no other person before him could.