"Well, I'd be happy to introduce you to some of the people I know --
there's a vintage shop that a friend of mine runs in Parkdale. He's
always looking for designers to help with rehab and repros."
"That would be so cool!"
"Now, Link, what do you study?"
Link pulled at his smoke, ashed in the fireplace grate. "Not much. I
didn't get into Ryerson for electrical engineering, so I'm spending a
year as a bike courier, taking night classes, and reapplying for next
year."
"Well, that'll keep you out of trouble at least," Alan said. He turned
to the nameless woman.
"So, what do you do, *Apu*?" she said to him, before he could say
anything.
"Oh, I'm retired, Mimi," he said.
"Mimi?" she said.
"Why not? It's as good a name as any."
"Her name is --" Link started to say, but she cut him off.
"Mimi is as good a name as any. I'm unemployed. Krishna's a bartender."
"Are you looking for work?"
She smirked. "Sure. Whatcha got?"
"What can you do?"
"I've got three-quarters of a degree in environmental studies, one year
of kinesiology, and a half-written one-act play. Oh, and student debt
until the year 3000."
"A play!" he said, slapping his thighs. "You should finish it. I'm a
writer, too, you know."
"I thought you had a clothing shop."
"I did. And a bookshop, and a collectibles shop, and an antique
shop.
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