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  • Of course the shit started mad coco delicioso in early July. A dollar fifty cherry mango with a napkin, not a tissue. Finally, we were alive with pleasure, stealing lunch breaks and evening commutes to hold hands. I made him grilled cheese with tomato every day, and he gave me all of his french fries. We stayed up on the phone until I fell asleep, and he'd call back each time to say goodnight. By September we'd melted into a tepid routine: kissing on the porch, fucking in the park, blunts and coquito at Titis house, piggy back rides on Sneidiker avenue, kicked down doors, and raucous morning tickle sessions.
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