I Was Gendered Correctly by a Non-Queer Stranger for the First Time
<p>YF drives; you doll yourself up in the luminescent mirror, perfect, as you like. Bobbi Brown’s multi-stick bronzes your cheekbones; the brand’s chunky rose-brown pencil demarcates your lips’ boundaries as a cartographer’s ruler slices the Prime Meridian.</p>
<p>Google Maps escorts y’all through a few forsaken thoroughfares. Your blue dot veers close to the Moroccan Lounge wherein you and YF’s child saw your friend Daro’s band (Lucky Chops) play. Increasingly tardy, y’all circle the block, questioning pedestrians concerning the wedding venue’s ingress.</p>
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