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it was amazing to get back on my bike after all this time. a helpful gentleman pointed me in the direction of the garam masala at patel bros where I might have cut someone in line. the three of us all happened to make dishes involving cumin. we argued over pronunciation, and I couldn’t make them see the error of their ways. later, at daddy’s, bizzy and I drank pints and pet a black dog named blackie. the giants won. we yelled, fist-pumped. it was anti-climactic. I won’t get lost riding home if there is a next time.
