![]() The older woman behind me nudges me forward, and I hastily pull out the crumpled up $10 in my pocket - too much change for a sugar-free Red Bull. Too transfixed on the glasses, I think, I bet Angie K has those glasses. I don’t notice that the man in front of me has already bought his Honey Bun and Sprite, and I’m holding up the line. They look like the kind construction workers wear on the Grindr grid, with the neon straps and a faint whiff of cigarettes. To the left of the checkout is a tree of sunglasses. Already it’s thawed, the only reminder it was ever here being the damp cuff on my jeans slowly seeping through my socks while I wait in line at 7-Eleven. The snow has fallen on Philadelphia for what seems to be the last time this winter.
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