I was running on Yonge Street. I guess I had a vague idea about where I was going, thanks to Richard. It was only six o’clock, but the sun had already set. I ran past College Street, Gerrard Street, Elm Street and Dundas Street. There was light coming from storefronts and from electric signs and streetlamps, and I had to weave through people dressed in coats and hats and walking home from work, their heads turning to watch me. I was almost n***d, with a mask covering my face and a cape fluttering behind my back. I ran alongside the Eaton’s Centre, past Queen Street, Richmond Street and Adelaide Street. My heart pounded like it was trying to break out of my chest. Cramps shot through my stomach and into my legs. Normally, they would have caused me to double over in pain, but I kept running—
