In Which I Begin Saying No
It was a fine Tuesday morning when I woke up after a splendid night out with friends, my hollow stomach rumbling for some greasy, filling food to fuel it. Leaving the house, I headed to the closest diner in Kensington Market (Our Spot), ordered myself a plate of food, and upon checkout, handed the cashier my debit card.
And then it happened. In one of the most dreadful moments of my life, I held the card machine in my hand staring at one word, in big block letters: DECLINED.