Tuesday Oct 28, 2014
I first heard the news over the radio. The fragmented words crackled as I waited at a red light on the eastern side of main street – the same spot the CBC kicks out on me each day. I heard the words one at a time, separately – gunman . . . parliament . . . shooting . . . soldier. I fiddled with the dial, turned up the volume, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then the light turned green.