Nothing’s different. The car is sitting in front the house. Steve gets on board, pretty much at the same time as Rich next door does on his. A quick nod to Rich, Steve turns the ignition key, as well as the radio switch. Blinker, a look through the side window, the low-pitched sound of the engine is the same. Nothing’s different. Central street looks ghosty in the dawn light. Car lights seem to brush the sky, people’s shadows cross the street or get into cars. A yellow square draws Steve’s attention: it’s a Post-It sticked on the glove box door; it says “donuts”. Steve sighs: his turn today… He stops the car in front of the bakery, just before the train bridge. The lights inside the shop are so powerful that Steve thinks he should have taken his sunglasses. Nothing’s different. He puts the white box on the passenger seat, and gets the car under the train bridge. On the other side, the traffic is getting heavier. On Dempster Road starts the stop-go motion, one traffic-light to another: hundreds of people sitting alone in their car, watching the bumper in front of them. Nothing’s different. Approaching the highway, Steve decides to bypass it and to take Glenview Road instead.  It’s a bit longer, but at least traffic is not stuck. Two miles further, on the other direction, a police car makes a u-turn just in front of Steve’s car, and speeds up towards the mall where, sometimes, Steve picks up a friend. When he gets to the mall, several flashing police cars are there. The car behind honks as Steve slows down to see what’s going on. Policemen prevent people from slowing down, traffic must go. Nothing’s different.

When he gets to work, Steve takes the white box on the passenger seat, enters the building, passes security, and seats down in his cubicle. An hour later, he puts the white box on the meeting room table. The few people around say “hi”. Nothing seems different. Until someone enters the room and explains that Paul killed himself this morning before coming to work. Steve seats down, shocked; Paul is the guy he picks up from time to time. “Where did that happen?” he says. “On Dempster Road” replies someone.

The next week, Steve leaves his office for the last time; he resigned the very morning. He leaves the city, and goes to a place he had left years before because it was too far from the city, and too peaceful. Now, he feels that things were different there. Season after season, the landscape was different; at night stars were glowing in the sky, and during snow storms people were helping each other. Everything’s actually different there; and there is no reason to commute.

jp