Wherever you trek across this city, you will never be able to escape the frizzy haired guy in the black leather jacket who always has his back to you as he lectures the woman he has captured for a mate. Maybe he doesn't care or maybe he doesn't even notice that she is not listening or even looking at him. You'll see them late at night in alleys, in the afternoon up against walls and even in the morning inside some Plaid Pantry somewhere.
One day, he will be distracted and follow her gaze and turn to see you near the bus stop and descend upon you like a bird asking if you have any part of forty-seven cents.
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