Leo adjusted his wrist brace. His hands had been bad today. The kind of bad where holding a coffee mug felt like lifting a cinder block. He pecked at the keyboard with two fingers.
He laughed. A dry, broken sound. His only asset was a 2011 Honda Civic with a dented bumper and a check engine light that had been on for two years.
Fine. Name. Birthdate. SIN. That was easy. That was just data. online odsp application
“Step 1 of 14,” the screen announced.
It looked so neat. So tidy. Like three items on a grocery list. It didn’t convey the mornings he couldn’t get out of bed to pee. It didn’t capture the look in his boss’s eyes when he said he had to quit—that mixture of pity and relief. It didn’t explain why he hadn’t answered his phone in six days. Leo adjusted his wrist brace
The spinning wheel returned. It spun for forty-five seconds. Leo held his breath, convinced the server had crashed, that all his answers had been swallowed into the digital void.
He typed: “Occasional freelance graphic design. Approx $200-400/month.” He pecked at the keyboard with two fingers
“Application Received. Reference Number: ODSP-2024-81923. Please allow 6-8 weeks for initial review. Do not call to check on your status.”