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SWM

SWM should stop trying bars while Cirque du Soleil is in town.

“Yeah, I’m a web developer,” he says, nails buffed mirror-bright. “Mostly sites that work on your iPhone, y’know?”

“Can I see one?” says the only SF who’s shown interest all night.

“Sure! As soon as I get an iPhone–”

“Gut evening,” says Jorma, stepping in as smooth as butterscotch. “I speak three languages. I have traveled to feefty countries. My body is perfect, and I can fly.”

SWM opens his mouth. They’re gone.

“Need anything, sir?” says the kind bartender.

“Another Rogers,” SWM sighs, “heavy on the Roy.”

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