"Next in line."

"Tan-ride ticket to Toronto."

"What?"

"Tan-ride tic-ticket to Toronto."

"What did you say?" She raised her voice.

"Tan-lide tic-ticket to To-toronto, please."

"I don't know what you were saying." She answered
impatiently.

Her black co-worker, from whom I bought tickets
several times, avoided eye contact with me. The GO*
riders standing behind me waited patiently.

"What do you want?"

I took out the notebook from my backpack, and I wrote
down “I want a ten-ride ticket to Toronto” on a blank
page. I showed it to her and gave her my Visa card.

While waiting for my ticket, I felt something inside
me fraying, something I had draped my dreams in.