Fiction: A Midsummer’s Daydream
<p>The little self-standing tent sign that read <em>The Midsummer Clinic for Hypnosis </em>came up to his knee. Tony stopped and paused. What sort of hack believes in hypnosis? Sure, Toronto had its fill of tarot and palm readings, but this was just off Victoria and Adelaide, in the center of the financial district. Toronto was turning into a discount Gotham city now, with opioid addicts harassing passengers public transportation, soaring food prices, and no real housing strategy. Still, the sign was intriguing, a modern minimalist spiral, with a sans serif font, on a cool Klein blue background. He peeked at the other side of the sign, and it read <em>— Walk-ins today! Unit 1111</em>. Tony looked around to make sure there was no one he knew on the streets, stubbed his cigarette, and walked in.</p>
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