You, Again

by Kate Goldbeck

Josh, I feel God in this Duane Reade tonight.

“You wear pants at home? With a button fly? Are you a psychopath?”

“ ‘No fatties’? Really? This asshole is holding a fish.”

“Are you suggesting that I shouldn’t have unzipped my hoodie to reveal my killmonger was right T-shirt in front of the docent?”

I’m not going to apologize because a wealthy industrialist once bought a Persian rug.” “ ‘Bought’?” She lets out a little cough—“white male privilege”—cough cough,

He looms over her, leaving just a couple inches of space between them. There’s a dish towel over his shoulder. He’s not playing fair.

“I think I found the other half of my black-and-white cookie and someone else might be eating it right now. I need to find him.”