I slowed down just as Monty caught up to me. "You're fast," he gasped.

My hand uncovered soft, wet grass under the thin layer of snow in High Park. The snow seeped into my skin. It was the center of the world, an axis point, and I took deep breaths to focus on just that.

Some time later, Monty returned. My jacket fluttered onto my shoulders. "You forgot it. It's freezing."

I slid my arms into its sleeves, sat on the jacket's bottom so my pants wouldn't touch the snow, and rocked back and forth. It occured to me that the restaurant must be at least a block away. "Thanks for that, Monty."

Squirrels, black-capped chickadees, and pigeons were the only visitors in the park right now. Monty leaned against a tree trunk, black and damp from the snow.

I'd gotten used to activating my power when faced with a sudden change that flipped my world upside-down. Then, drained from the energy my power exerted, I'd crash and sleep. If I was unlucky, my hyperactivity would banish all notion of sleep. With the adrenaline ebbing in my veins now, my thoughts led to the next and the next like a line of dominos.

Every step I took, I was running face-first into uncertainties. And just when I found my footing, everything collapsed and ceased to make sense. Your surroundings became unrecognizable. Volatile. Following rules that you didn't understand, but everyone else did.

And on top of that, it meant reworking my schedule to pay for this month's expenses. Since Monty was my room mate and we had agreed to be transparent about financial stuff, I told him this.

"That's what you're worried about?" Monty sighed, exasperated. "It's fine. I have time to work it out with you later this week."

Sometimes I wished my emotions could diffuse to him and he'd understand everything going on inside me. It stayed buried, like water underneath ice.

—

We walked back to the restaurant's parking lot and got in my car and started to drive to the University of Toronto. The city planners designed its street grids back in 1787. While I was grateful for its orderly grid network that corresponded with the cardinal directions, the lanes were narrow. During my first few months away from Kingston, I had to relearn the etiquette about street parking in front of businesses. Then there were the TTC street cars that operated in certain lanes with the metal groove marks. But thanks to the winter snap a couple days ago, the street car wires overhead were frozen solid.

We pulled over at the university. Snow lined the rectangular eaves of the St. George campus, its domed rooftop of the main building supported by cream-coloured pillars. A few students milled around the entrances, sharing coffee or kicking snow around. A guy wearing a white T-shirt walked out one of the doors and spotted us. I waved back. I didn't know Monty's boyfriend that well, but from what Monty told me, Joachim was in the media studies program at the University of Toronto. Apparently he also wasn't afraid of the cold.

Monty reached over into the backseat to grab his backpack and a rolled up poster board. From the insides, I glimpsed rows and rows of printed code. "Thanks for the ride, Tai. I'm busy today, but I'll see if I can find you some new places to do gigs."

I was grateful that Monty didn't push the subject of my discussion with James. "Thank you. For everything. If you hadn't stepped in--"

He shrugged. "It's cool. Just try not to think about it, and take a break. If I feel like procrastinating, I'll hop over and we'll play video games."

I smiled. "Deal."

He slammed the car door shut and met up with Joachim on the building's steps. They went in together.

I leaned back in my seat, wondering what would have happened if I hadn't quit architecture school. University laid out the groundwork for its students; you chose a course and you went with it. It had kept me on track until I decided music was the real passion I wanted to pursue, not geography or urban landscaping. People said you weren't ever satisfied with anything though. The institutional setting blocked out the rest of the chaotic world--a luxury I didn't have at the moment.

—

Back at the apartment, I propped my guitar against the wall, threw my jacket on the sofa and flopped down. It surprised me how little Monty used his own apartment before he rented it out to me. He preferred residence, he'd said, and left it at that. Now he only checked in during break weeks, if he'd forgotten some supplies or if he needed a breather from the world of academia.

The apartment gave me the quiet space I needed without making me feel like I was entirely alone. The living room had stashes of Monty's old video games, academic medals, and clutter that hinted at a busy student's life.

But if the living room was sloppy, then my bedroom looked like a tornado whipped through it. I spent the next hour collecting music sheets into folders and cleaning up the mess. "Check, check, check," I muttered, going over the instructions I'd typed for myself in my phone. In the end, I placed my guitar on the bed and sighed. It wasn't great, but at least I could see the corkboard of my favourite artists, the map of Toronto, my collection of paper city models, a photo of my siblings and parents, and Post-It notes reminding me to brush, take a walk, and go to the grocery store. I added a reminder to look for restaurant venues and budget for upcoming December, a task I dreaded.

On my nightstand was a lava lamp I had filled with clear glue and small 3D shapes. My little sister, Tienne, had the idea of adding confetti so now the lava lamp reflected sunlight threw shards of rainbow specks on the desk. She also painted the lamp's base in a lotus flower pattern, something I'd only agreed to because of how upset she was over my announcement of moving away from Kingston.

I held the lamp in my hands. I knew what it was like to be left alone unexpectedly, watching the person in the distance pursue their dreams. No one said how hard it'd be to walk that path.

It was the last days of November, I reminded myself. I still had my tutoring job at Kumon, and a few hours driving an Uber would earn enough money for rent, and then some. Or would it? I'd have to wait until Monty got back so we could figure that out together.

Monty understood, but most people would think I was joking when I said I didn't know how to budget. At all. I'd never been explicitly taught it. Yet people thought that my decent academic grades in math--not that I was a math whiz, or an English whiz, or an Albert Einstein in any specific subject--were enough to disprove my own words. Society revolved around expectations. And every time I thought I'd cheated the system, it blew up in my face.

I thought back to the restaurant. Had I misread the manager's intentions? Surely he was a kind person. Then why did he not tell me this as soon as possible? Was there a clue somewhere that I'd missed? Even Monty had that unsurprised look on his face, like he understood something I didn't.

No matter how much I convinced myself to focus on more worthwhile things, the events played in my mind like a broken record.

It wasn't like I was going back there again. I hadn't quite figured out the parameters of how Shield worked, but it was a fifty-fifty chance that the effects were permanent. And if it took all that work to have James see me as worthless, I didn't want to "prove" myself to him again. When you lowered the bar for yourself, it became easier to predict how others would react, and I was fine with that. It hurt less than failing to meet high hopes.

My phone buzzed. Nora's icon--a picture of her pet cat, Meabh--lit up the screen. The background pulsed with colour.

I met Nora during the summer in Aurora, up north of Toronto. Our relationship had a rocky start. Each phone call filled me with anxiety, because I never knew if I was saying the right things, but Nora was definitely calling me more often after our misunderstanding.

We'd agreed upon our relationship boundaries, but still. It was a battle when she preferred talking and I preferred texting. We were a couple who traded playlists instead of gifts, artwork that displayed our feelings instead of cuddling. Her synthpop playlists helped cheer me up.

TAI: Bad day.

NORA: Oh I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?

NORA: Have you written any new songs?

TAI: I feel restless like my creativity is gushing out but it feels futile to make songs. Like, have you ever done something wrong but had no idea what happened, only that you're being blamed? I feel stuck. No one teaches you how to be a successful musician because there's different pathways that should lead to the same destination, but it's not what I expected. I thought I'd be able to connect with similar minded people, but I feel like I'm operating in a vacuum.

TAI: But Monty came to see me perform. That was nice.

I mostly added the last part because I was a believer of not letting the negative dwarf out the positive stuff in life.

NORA: It's nice Monty was there for you. Any career starts out like that until you've networked with the right people.

And there was the dreaded word again. Networking.

NORA: Of course, another option is marketing so your music reaches the people interested in your music.

NORA: I wish I had the time and knowledge to help you market, but I don't. If you can't find a way to promote yourself, ask someone like a mentor to help guide you.

TAI: ?

NORA: You know, whoever has studied music and helps artists make it better. In marketing we have people from different departments who come in to collaborate, and the end result is better because everyone uses their strengths. It's the same idea.

Was I ready for that stage yet? No one would want to work with a musician whose gigs ended on sour notes.

TAI: I'll think about it.

NORA: Okay.

She took a long time to type her next message.

NORA: I know what it's like to operate in a vacuum. On the surface, it's easy to isolate yourself because you feel so different from everyone else.

TAI: What do you mean?

NORA: I mean I'm trying to relate with you. We come from very different backgrounds, but I'll be here whenever you need me, Tai. Here's another playlist I compiled.

NORA: [link]

NORA: I need to go take care of family business. I'll see if I can hop by your place in the next few weeks. Love you.

TAI: Love you too.

Life is hard, I thought later that night as I fell onto my bed, listening to Nora's playlist. Is this what it's like to live on your own?