1:30 pm, Saturday, Balboa.
You: Cute brown sweater, cropped at the belt. Jeans. Dark hair in a pony tail, if the bike helmet didn't deceive.
Me: Curly hair, a roll neck sweater, waiting for a sandwich from devil's teeth. Transfixed by your eyes. Not knowing whether to believe my own.
Us: A day on Divis, the fog melting above our heads. Warmed mugs of tea, homemade kimchi, too much chocolate. Let's drink of summer's last gasp together.
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