Our Lady of Perpetual Technological Failure
Dina Moon
He sees me in a sea of people. He withdraws his gaze immediately, but it is too late. I notice. He’s gotten a haircut since the last time I saw him. The soul patch goatee is gone, replaced by a, if I must say so, feeble attempt at a handlebar mustache. Someone needs to buy the boy some mustache wax.
Thu, 10/06/2022 - 05:00