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i hate the way winter tugs at my long-past, never-faded teenaged angst.

my forehead is against the window of an OC transpo bus winding its way though kanata's suburban streets, taking me to my appointment with dr. mundt.

after an hour of looking out of his window onto the roof, covered in gravel, dotted with vents and pigeons, i hand him $120 in cash from my savings account.

my head against the cold glass, the bus takes me back to hazeldean mall, and i walk back to school just in time for my next class.

i miss my math class in the portable once every two weeks for this.

i hear nirvana and kick the ground on my way home.

does every canadian winter feel like it did when i was 15? is that why it makes me feel like i'm 15?