The Storm

On Thursday, the radio said a big snowstorm was coming to Toronto.

"Thirty centimetres of snow tonight," Luis said. He shook the snow off his yellow jacket. "Maybe forty. Nobody wants a taxi in this. I'm staying here until it stops."

"Then you have to buy something every hour," Sam said.

"Every hour? That's a lot of muffins."

"That's the rule."

Luis ordered a muffin.

By midnight, the snow was very heavy. Maya could not see the hospital across the street. She could only see white. The café was full. There were nurses at the end of their shift who couldn't get home, a family from out of town, two students with their laptops, and a man with a small dog under his coat.

"Sorry, dogs aren't allowed," Maya said to him.

"Please," the man said. "It's minus twenty outside. He's very small. He's very quiet."

Maya looked at Sam. Sam looked at the dog. The dog looked at Sam.

"He can stay," Sam said. "But he doesn't order anything."

Everybody laughed.

At half past one, the lights went out.

For a moment, nobody said anything. The coffee machine stopped. The music stopped. The fridge stopped. There was only the sound of the wind. Then one of the students said, "My laptop is at three percent," and everybody started talking at the same time.