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April 25, 2013
Michael approached the coffee shop, hands in his pockets, breathing mouthfuls of air into the cold night. Beyond the glass it looked cozy. The old floorboards groaned a welcoming as his eyes caught sight of the GLBT newspaper stand. He picked one up and rolled it tight, like a diploma, or a ticket. Back home, in the kitchen, he flipped through the pages. Once he got to the middle he slowed down some, but all that was left were ads promoting poppers and lube, new stories irrelevant to him, and obscure events to which he had no one to bring.