
Medicine
The bus stop is a stoic, singular tooth poked up from the land.
After a climate disaster fractures Toronto, a practical electrician investigates whether her late partner’s visions of strangers’ lives were imagination — or evidence of an unseen network connecting them.
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The bus stop is a stoic, singular tooth poked up from the land.

The bus stop is a stoic singular tooth poked up from the land, an open mouth fed by road slush.

In this heavy-booted weather, every entry from the outdoors is a ceremony of stomping.

No one finds hospitals comforting, but, when the nurses on night shift are making hushed rounds and the fluorescent lights are off, and the whirring machines are your lullabies, it feels okay.

The rez is barren.

The girl was born blind – fully blind, not the halfway kind.

Last chapter her life backwards

Prelude

Iran, 1980.

This is what happens when money gets you.