I got up and ordered an iced coffee to wash down the sticky rice, double-checking the finer details on things like signs, flooring, food, and even people’s faces. Satisfied, I stood up - only for something to catch my eye. I snapped my face up to the balcony above, spotting a bright, flaming red head of hair bobbing toward the Bay Street exit.

I dashed to the charging locker, entering the code as fast as possible, yanking my cell free from the charging port, and booked it for the stairs, skipping two at a time. Even if I only saw a blurry mess in front of me, there was no way there were multiple officers with hair that naturally intense-or even allowed to be kept that long and in such a lazy half-up-do.

Finally making it to the top, I jogged my way through the people toward the corner that led to the exit. I needed to catch this fucker and find out how he knew my name. I pushed open the door into the large hallway-like vestibule and spotted what could be the young guy exiting onto the street. 

“Hey!” I yelled out, trying to get his attention. There was no reaction as the heavy glass door closed shut with a resounding thud. I felt the adrenaline rush through me as I clicked my tongue, dashing to the door and out to the street front. As I pushed open the monstrous double door, sidestepping the people trying to come in, I made it out of the exit under the overpass.

“The hell’s your problem?” Some ass yelled at me when we brushed shoulders. I was tempted to give him a piece of my mind, but I couldn’t lose the officer now. So I threw a grumbled half-apology his way as I continued to run. When I finally spotted that red beacon through the crowd, he was already climbing into the passenger side of a cop car pulled up on the curb.

“Damn it, I said wait!” I yelled louder. My voice didn’t travel as far as I hoped it would, as the highway above drowned it out. The car revved before pulling away, heading southbound before turning toward the brewery. “Fuck!”

I threw my head back and groaned, pissed as hell while panting. I wanted to punch something so bad, but being surrounded by concrete, I would only break one of my bones. Glancing around, I noticed quite a few questionable eyes on me and turned away without looking back. 

I’m tired as fuck. I wouldn’t exactly say I'm out of shape - but heavy clothes and boots, in the heat of the city core, didn’t help much. Well, this was just a momentary distraction. I had other things to focus on that took priority over some narcissist who pretended to be a hero of the small folks. I rolled my eyes, disappointed in myself for even trying to chase down a cop just because he knew my name. 

I pulled the heavy door open with as much frustration as I could manage, angry that my smaller frame struggled with the metal monstrosity that was being pushed closed by the strong wind from the harborfront. Finally getting through the door frame, while ignoring the questionable looks of strangers, I pulled out my phone, slamming the on button repeatedly. 

There aren’t too many cops with that aesthetic - there’s no way the local forums wouldn’t be fired up over that fake ginger. No one’s head is Clifford the Big Red Dog's shade. I rolled my eyes up as I paused in place, lost in thought. Are cops even allowed to have brightly dyed hair, tattoos, and piercings? 

“Wait…” I mumbled. He had long sleeves from the uniform… and I was mainly blind at the time. How would I know if he’s tattooed? Did I just assume so just because of how he looked? Did I, of all people, stoop that low? I tapped my phone against my chin, clicking my tongue. Staying steadfast and solving the current issue was more important. I’m not sure why I keep letting him distract me. 

I flinched when my phone screen flashed on from the logo graphics and jingle. Squinting my eyes, I moved back inside to one of the unused hallways still under construction, so not many would come this way. Squatting down, I clicked on my screen and frowned in confusion. 

“What the hell…?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Am I confused, or is the date on my phone wrong? I flipped to the settings to make sure it was on automatic date fetching, and made sure my phone was up-to-date. When the numbers didn’t change, it was as if my mouth dried out. I looked down at my clothes, good and proper this time, brows knitted. 

Heavy, cropped, black leather jacket with a four-point layered collar. Charcoal, distressed, oversized muscled tee tucked in. Blacker than black heavy jeans with leather patchwork, and an overly-long studded, looped belt. Finished off with heavy, shin-high leather boots. It was definitely a younger style than his more recent choices…

“Fuck, does that me It was an I’m late for class?” I grumbled, my hand shaking from gripping the phone so tightly. It was a Thursday after all… I swore I had already graduated, but scrolling through my photo album, it didn’t seem to be the case. 

Though I can’t remember what I was doing on that crosswalk, a part of me felt much older and already past this point in life. As I skimmed through the contents, I got a general idea of my current daily life, schedule, and dorm address.

“Dorms…” I mumbled with a groan, my hand clutching my chin as I pursed my lips. Shared rooms with other computer science undergrads… “... gross.”

No part of me wanted to go to where I needed to sleep for the night, already dreading the smell I could picture in my head. Most of the applied sciences were on the same floor, and I had seen the damage done to those who studied engineering. 

It’s no wonder they hire an outsourced representative or freshmen for high-school visits. If they called upon any of the active students nearing graduation, it would scare away any potential onboarding student. 

With one more reluctant glance at the home address displayed on my screen, I pushed myself back onto my feet, making my way down to Sunway Track One to St Patrick Station. The walk to Chestnut Street was only a couple of minutes from the line, but I was already dreading the walk from the dorms to the University of Toronto itself.