Three, two, one...
It was already an hour into my going away party, and hours since I'd left the house for dinner at an all-you-can-eat sushi bar, before anyone told me my cardigan was on inside out. When they mimed the message from across the bar, I responded with the Mashed Potato until they gave up. I had other things on my mind – like leaving Montreal, my home of 12 years, for good.
And yesterday, I'd walked eight city blocks to the bank before I caught sight of my reflection. It wasn't the strange energy of a woman on the lam as I'd thought which had people giving me that look. It was my hat. Or, rather it was the torn Revenu Québec envelope stuck in its fold like a paper feather flopping from the side.
I'm leaving Montreal tomorrow morning. There's no time for the little details like sense and composure anymore. And so I turn once again to whatever reassurance I can get – like the National Post in the lunch room at the PR firm where my friend works. My English boyfriend's a Leo, and I know for a fact romance is on his horizon. That's the polite way to say it. And as for me, the Aquarius, I'm on top of the world. "Do what you will!" it says.
Oh, don't you worry. I will. No promise was ever more easily made.