Every Friday, Dylantry Horbloo made his way to the second floor of the Toronto Reference Library, glancing over his shoulder, even though no one ever followed him.
At the end of the last row on the right, he would gently push in the misfiled (and fake) “Book of Puns” by Benjamin Disreali. The shelves would part as a series of mirrors masked him from prying eyes at any angle, and Dylantry would step into a darkened antechamber.
A small green light would appear above a second door, and he would emerge at the front of the line at the always crowded Ginger’s restaurant three blocks south of the library.
No-one ever noticed his line butt, and within moments he would walk away with his order; a fresh vegetable roll, Vietnamese pho soup, and small container of Sriracha on the side.
He’d discovered this tunnel completely by accident, and had never encountered anyone else in it. But today, the green light failed to go on, and he suddenly smelled patchouli and marijuana. He realized he wasn’t alone!
He fumbled for his iPhone and activated the flashlight app… surprising a young couple making out in the dark. “Hey!” said the blonde woman, shielding her eyes.
“Oh, sorry,” said Dylantry. “I thought I was the only one who knew about this place.”
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“You the fuzz?” asked the long-haired man suspiciously.
“Oh, no…” said Dylantry, finally noticing the green light turn on… above the couple’s head. “Then you’re a perv!” said the woman. “You wanna join in?”
As she took a step towards him, Dylantry stumbled backwards, falling back out the door and into the library. Stunned, he hurriedly ran out and walked to Ginger’s. He’d lineup like everybody else today.
The hippy couple gaped at each other, then back at the darkened Yorkville alley wall into which they’d just seen the narc with the weird flashlight disappear.
“Neil,” said Joni. “What’s with this acid?”
