Returning home from Cancún, I didn’t feel rested, but I was relieved to be back at work, among acquaintances if not friends. The trip to Mexico had been anything but calming; instead, it had stirred an almost unbearable sense of impending, joyless doom. While I was slightly perturbed that my vacation had ended and I was thrust back into the mundane repetition of commuting, working, and sleeping, I was glad to return to the familiar—or so I thought.

Over the weeks following my trip, I started to feel as though I no longer belonged in the place I had called home for so long. One instance that sticks out was reuniting with a good friend a few days after my return. We went out for sushi, where we ended up arguing about veganism. The topic came up when I mentioned that it was nearly impossible to travel and get enough nourishment if you’re determined to stick to a vegan diet. I told my friend that I had to abandon my commitment to veganism because the restrictions were too difficult to uphold while traveling. He wasn’t convinced. I suppose we were both too stubborn in our convictions, as we haven’t spoken to each other since that last meeting.

Another thing I noticed after returning was that the streets of Vancouver felt less safe. The sidewalks and businesses were overrun with mice and rats. People on the street avoided eye contact, likely for fear of locking eyes with a crazed or aggressive stranger. Stranger attacks had become a common fear in Vancouver’s neighborhoods.

In this atmosphere of loneliness and fear, I began to obsess over the clay turtle whistle I’d purchased in Mexico. I started having recurring dreams of diving into the cenote and recovering a soprano recorder tangled in the weeds below. Compelled by this dream, I bought a recorder and began to practice in earnest. Perhaps delusionally, I believed I could control the minds of rats and mice like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

This, I believe, is the reason I lost my job at the bakery. Too often, the owners would watch me on the surveillance cameras, playing my recorder in the hope that I could lure the mice from their hiding places.