Plotting Home

Despina woke up and poured herself a cup of coffee so weak it looked like tea. Incapable of doing anything leisurely, she guzzled it back and looked over her shoulder. She wasn’t supposed to drink coffee because the caffeine was bad for her osteoporosis, leaching minerals from her already brittle bones, but during the week when her daughter wasn’t visiting there was no one to report to on dietary matters. She skimmed through the Toronto Star looking for dead Greek people in the death notices—it was a good day today, but bad for the Italians she noticed—a Mancuso, Iannuzelli, Arturio and an Ianno gone. And that was only in the first three columns. There never used to be any Greek names in the deaths section—they were all young and fresh off the boat—only dead Mcs and Macs and Smiths and Joneses. She flipped through for the Sears ads and set the paper aside. It was her son’s subscription.

Published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 1. Purchase the book to read the full piece.