Quarter-Pound Foolish

The subway home from high school would drop me off on the southside of Bloor, out the rear entrance, and across the parking lot to the Uptown Nut House, which although it was much better known for its fresh-roasted cashews, was my go-to for loose candy.

Thirty-five cents for a quarter pound of jubes, forty-five for the licorice babies, or—if I was feeling particularly fancy—a whole dollar’s worth of their wine gums. Sure, it was bad for me, but what did I care? I certainly needed the calories, and my teeth were still on my mother’s dental plan.