924 Gilman
I float in the gathering place of coke-ends. My toes are numb, my shirt is soaked in the sweat of another human, the music pulses in my gut, and I’m being shoved into the edge of the small stage by someone twice my size.
I float in the gathering place of coke-ends. My toes are numb, my shirt is soaked in the sweat of another human, the music pulses in my gut, and I’m being shoved into the edge of the small stage by someone twice my size.