X loiters next to the alt-modern thank you sign in the newly laid car park
Piped in loungy Starbucks music steals Yo La Tengo riffs evoking mythical summer days that never happened.
A phone scroll reveals ‘test and trace exposed.’
Are you staying in? Are you OK to do track and trace?
I spill my drink on the large round table – all of it. Lake Latte. Tall.
I gaze out from an elevated position in search of the virtual bridge.
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