Shayan Afzal

The day was fair, and the Toronto streets lay open and empty, like the sea when it’s calm. February had shrugged off its usual coat of snow, leaving the asphalt bare, as if the earth itself were making a statement against the typical Canadian winter. The trees stood in quiet testament to the season that hadn’t come, their branches stark against a sky too blue for this time of year.

The iron horses on the bridge were motionless as always, but today, under the bright sun, they seemed less like silent watchers and more like participants in the day’s quiet defiance of winter. The light was strong, not the slanting light of winter afternoons, but a bold, summer light that fell in squares on the wooden planks of the walkway. It was a day that spoke more of July than February, a chapter of warmth in the midst of cold pages. It was a walk to remember, a brief summer stolen in the heart of winter, a pause in the rhythm of the seasons.