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?