Chapter 1

Ginny hasn’t slept well in nine months, since she was attacked in the alley. Matt says her insomnia must be a side effect of the Xanax she was put on for her overwhelming anxiety. It’s also too hot tonight and there’s still so much packing left to do. Her mind is busy, whirling. Ginny is sitting sideways on the new faux-leather sofa in the living room of their apartment. The lights are off. All she can see is an occasional twinkling out the patio doors down in the city. Her back is against the arm of the sofa, her legs are stretched out. The living room is in disarray, there are boxes everywhere. Some half open, some sealed shut. Ginny’s legs are bare and her feet are sticky in the heat. The faux leather squeaks when she moves. The smell of cardboard and sofa chemicals permeate the room. Even with the patio doors open, Ginny can smell it, and also the dust from sealing up their life, from moving everything into the middle of the room, the curry smells from last night’s dinner of takeout Indian food, the mouldy smell they never got out of the bathroom. She lies there on the sofa, sniffing. She takes it in, trying to snap a photo of this apartment in her mind, trying to take it with her when they move next week. And trying also to leave it behind. Ginny and Matt have loved living here, they have had some great memories, some great times, but, ever since the alley attack, they know it’s time to leave. Ginny needs to leave.

Matt is asleep in the next room. Ginny’s laptop is resting on her thighs. It leaves a red mark on her skin, recently sunburned from that last bike ride through the city. She keeps holding the laptop up to cool off her thin, naked legs. The light from the screen makes her squint. She takes off her reading glasses and rubs her eyes. There is a line of mosquito bites on the back of one thigh and she scratches at them ceaselessly. Ginny has been here, in this position, not really moving except to scratch, since 2:00 a.m. The laptop on her thighs, she’s been checking on their new house in Parkville. They bought the house in July but it wasn’t until tonight that Ginny thought to go on Google Maps. The thought woke her from a light, restless slumber and then her brain started moving and she thought, “Google Maps,” and got up to power up her laptop. Matt rolled over, his arms jutting out over Ginny’s pillow, his body splaying everywhere, and he snorted. The ceiling fan in the bedroom moved sluggishly and clicked with each rotation, doing little to help with the heat.

Ginny moves her fingers on her laptop down Google Street View. She turns left and right, spins in circles, heading through the town’s streets, getting to know their new neighbourhood from above and side to side. A large old tree, maybe maple, here, a neighbour’s tulip flag to the left of a red door with the words “Spring into Spring” just visible, a tiny dog walker wearing a bright blue coat, the dog ahead on the lead wearing