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Beneath all the lesbian drama, that’s what Metropolis was really about. Finding your people and making them your family.
Young Cassidy observed the stylish panorama of well-groomed men wearing jackets and ties and tailored pants with superb chic. She didn’t hate clothes. She hated clothes for girls.
The fishhook-clasp leather wrap bracelet that she’d bought a year ago but never wore because Paul Michael said it looked “sadomasochistic in a Mapplethorpian kind of way.” Perfect.
But she had kissed a girl. And she had liked it.
