It was an ordinary
day. The heat had finally broken, gray
clouds hung low in the sky, promising much needed rain. I settled in front of my computer, preparing
to write yet another article when suddenly ... bang, bang, bang, bang!
What the hell was
that? A car backfiring ... fire crackers
... gun shots? Surely not, not in our
sleepy part of Toronto.
The noise had my full
attention and that of the cats. Mickey,
awoken from a sound sleep, sat up straight.
Clearly confused. Chanel and
Charlotte stayed safely where they were (in a cabinet), while Gabriel dove
under the bed.
An hour later (I had
already forgotten about the loud noise) the superintendent’s voice came over
the intercom. Nobody was allowed to out
through the back of the building.
So there had been shots
...
I peeked through the
bedroom window and saw that part of the parking lot was cordoned off with
yellow tape. Interesting.
Research online revealed
that a 19 year old male had been shot in the stomach, steps away from our condo
building.
In no time the place was
packed with police, forensic units and television crews. Inside the building it was swarming with
police men and women. From what I heard
they were going door to door, asking if anyone had seen or heard anything.
They only visited condos
facing north and up to the 10th floor though. Since I’m on the 11th floor and
facing south, nobody was interested in what we had to say.
This is the third
shooting in two months. First a gunman
opened fire in a busy shopping mall, next a lunatic with a gun fired shots at a
barbeque gathering, now this.
Is this Toronto or the
wild, wild west?
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