The eavesdropper

On Sunday I spilled my loose change all over the sidewalk on the corner of Maisonneuve and Drummond, and things got really complicated after that.

If I had been back in the States, I probably wouldn’t have been that bothered over dropping a few coins. But this was Canada, and I was positive I’d had at least ten dollars’ worth in my pocket before it all went rolling in every direction. I needed money for the Metro. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

I wish I could say the complicated part was trying to avoid getting stepped on while I searched for the escaped loonies and toonies on the concrete. Or that it was when I had to crawl all the way into a phone booth to fish out an elusive coin that had gotten wedged in the corner.

I won’t even say things got complicated when I realized that the pigeons next to said phone booth were having a conversation (and a heated one, at that). Or when I also realized a split second later that I could understand what they were saying.

No, things got really, really complicated when it became clear to me that they were plotting a murder.

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