CIRCLING THE WHITE TENTS, their flaps still tied shut, I peer around the corners looking for the vendors. It’s almost ten, and the sun’s already evaporated the morning coolness of my bike ride down to Queens Quay West. The astroturf is springy beneath my thin shoes. The speedboats bob in the marina. I hear the…

THERE IS A SLIPPERY satisfaction in the act of donning my uniform at the start of my shift. White t-shirt with the company name stamped in green on the back; non-slip shoes, hair covering, name badge. The last thing is to wrap the cords of a clean white apron tightly around my hips, folding the…

IT IS JUST PAST SIX in the morning and I’m barreling south down Victoria Dr. on my Specialized mountain bike. There is a fine fog that is dissipating in the morning light but that still renders the boughs of the ornamental plum trees and the few cowichan-clothed people in a grey film. I cross Broadway,…