The room was so dim, so small, and so stuffy. The walls were scratched, the roof was slightly burnt. Ghetto. The scent of stinky dirty water was lingering in the room. Gaven just woke up. It was 3am. Outside, the window was still dark, with lonely street lights illuminating the whole community. He walked out from the room and went to a bathroom that was shared by 12 people. It was a 450 square foot apartment. Sam, who rented the couch, had woken up before Gave and left for work. After grooming himself, he went back to his room and started to pack what he needed for the day. Meanwhile, Jim, Gaven’s roommate who had the room with a loft bed, just returned to Home.

"How's work?" Gaven asked with a heavy Portuguese accent.

"All is fine. 15-hour shift. Luckily today wasn't that busy, had time to take a snooze when that cocky boss wasn't ‘round." 

"Good for you. I'm gonna go work. Have a good rest. Take care, mate."

The weather in Toronto was depressing: so sticky, with wet air surrounding Gaven's skin. It was October weather and he had to bike to work alone. Gaven was soaking wet, couldn’t even distinguish his sweat from the wet air. The experience was made even more miserable because Gaven wasn’t looking forward to working either. The work was hard, but he didn’t have a choice, he was desperate. Desperate for money.

Leaving Home in Cabbagetown, he biked to work, 20 minutes away. Gaven looked at the buildings and noticed how aged they were. There were clear encroachments on walls torn up by wind and rain.

He cut through a narrow path between two buildings towards the back of Royal Muffin. Gaven entered the deli and was welcomed by buckets full of towels, dishes and cups which badly needed washing.

"Sup fool, how was your sleep?" Asked a white guy with uprising lips on his face, scornful towards Gaven.

“Good sir. Thanks for asking.”

“You better be productive now, don’t waste time.”

“Yes sir.”

Even though Gaven could feel a burning sense of anger, he hid it well. He didn’t have a choice. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have a job to pay for what little he had. Gaven was paid $5 for his work every hour, even though the minimum wage was $11. However, this wasn’t uncommon: unfairness was asive in his community, but no one had the courage or the time to do anything about it. They knew that if they did so, all their dreams and ambitions would go down the drain like a worthless penny.

The sun was rising slowly. Rays of light peered into every block. After washing a load of dishes, Gaven went down to the basement—a completely concealed room that was lit by a mere single 60-watt light bulb. Gaven’s been doing the same work for 3 years now: no holidays, no breaks. Only insults to pass the time. When Gaven was insulted, he never shed a tear from his blue eyes. He didn’t even move a single muscle on his pale white face. The only thing he did was scratch the back of his head and blonde hair. Then, he put on a fake smile. He was chopping the lettuce quietly in his cage of a basement; just waiting, waiting for the boss to come and collect his colander of lettuce.

Two hours passed before he could take a little rest. Unlike Jim, Gaven had to pay attention while resting, anticipating every single order that would come, or else he wouldn’t see a penny from his boss.

Gaven’s legs felt sore and worn out. The moment he sat down on a plastic chair, his boss came in.

“Chop the tomato and lemon,” said his boss.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t you ever try to goof off now. I pay you to work, not to lie on your all day.”

“Yes sir,” said Gaven while chopping the lemons with a blunt knife, using so much force to simply slice through the peel.

“Be quick, need them as soon as possible. Y’all fools get things done so darn slow,” said the boss with great pride.

“Yes sir.”

While cutting the lemons, Gaven felt there was something stuffed in his nose which made him sniffle. After his boss left, he went to find a much needed napkin to blow his nose. Upon blowing his nose, he looked down and saw that the white napkin was now tinged with greenish-yellow mucus. He placed his hand on his forehead and felt the heat radiating from the touch. Gaven finally knew the reason why he felt like he was in a sauna as he rode his bike to work – a fever.

 Suddenly, he felt the energy flow away from his body; his head started to spin a little.