Chelsea Reed and David shared a workplace and a love for 60s pop. Then an expiring visa threatened to end everything before it had even begun
It was 2015, and my then-boyfriend and I were living in Canada on working holiday visas from Australia. In the dead of a Toronto winter, I got a job at a restaurant that hosted open mic nights every Sunday, and as a singer-songwriter myself, I was excited to perform.
The open-mic host, David, a bespectacled guy with a neat haircut, bore a striking resemblance to Buddy Holly or Ferris Bueller. He played a few songs to warm up the crowd, and I was instantly impressed – and jealous of his talent.
