Parc Jeanne Mance, on the grass near Esplanade

Female, 20s, dark curly hair. Wearing a yellow dress, lying on a blanket.

The Flying Troutmans, Miriam Toews (Knopf)

Page 33:

That night Logan came home drunk. I heard him fall down in the kitchen. I went in and switched on the light and he said, Oh man, dude, that is a seriously diaphanous nightgown you’ve got on. I switched the light off again and knelt down beside his head. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed. He wanted to stay there.

Day. Full sun.
Noveline: People always picture angels wearing nightgowns, don’t they? But just imagine the drafts. (shudders) I think heaven would be a place where everyone could wear pyjamas all the time.
Romana: (looking over) Then I guess we’re already there.

Saleema Nawaz

Northbound Yonge Line at King

Caucasian woman, early 20s, with short dark hair, wearing glasses, black turtleneck, and long black winter coat.

Summer of My Amazing Luck, Miriam Toews (Vintage Canada)

Page 147:

I had never really known my dad, and now I wasn’t giving Dill the chance to know his dad. Maybe I should write down everything I know about every guy I was with and then let Dill choose who . . . but what difference does it make? At the very least, I knew I was his mother.

Her father is much older than her mother. She shares no resemblance to him beyond an affection for almond bark and the Cello Suites. Sunday afternoons are spent in the study. He sits at his desk preparing next week’s lectures. She reclines in the worn leather chair with the rip in the seat, taken from the office of a recently deceased colleague. She crosses the room, breaks off another piece of chocolate, and nibbles at the edge of an almond wondering, as she has her whole life, where this man came from.