Of a writer who spent the morning sneezing and slurping expensive coffee and searching the inter webs for queer hash tags and cheap flights.
This is the story that jumps back in time to last night when the writer went to an expensive diner with her two writer friends and together they sipped Miller High Life and couldn’t finish their hash browns.
And it’s pride. Happy pride.
The writer writes about all the mornings she has wondered what it would be like to kiss LP. In a dark high school gymnasium.
Open mouth. Lots of tulle.