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The nonny emerged from the sterile-tiled hell and took a deep breath. It was bliss being outdoors after an eternity as a sardine! They'd normally take Line 2 to Kipling, but the crampiness was unbearable and the jerking halts irritating and the muffled nonsense that sounded like "We're changing crew here" infuriating. They didn't mind waiting for the shitshow to stop.
As their eyes adjusted to the evening's orange light, they took stock of their surroundings. A parking lot here, a cultural centre there... was that a Fat Bastard nearby? They'd stop by after determining what gastronomia meant. Armadale Avenue, they thought as they tugged down their hat to preserve scant warmth. They'd heard good things about this part of Toronto and as they observed on Google Maps, the street was short. Wouldn't hurt to take a tour.
They turned left and beelined down the tree-lined road, marveling at its cute little houses and scattered cars. Subway stoppages had aptly silver linings.