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We were invited to Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s jazz night by our mutual friends, Rich and Nicole. I, the self-appointed queen of snacks, brought a plethora of goodies and drinks from my Sherman Oaks apartment. This was one of my very first forays back into the world post-COVID-19 vaccine, and I was mostly ready to mix and mingle again with the masses.

Nicole waved me over to the chairs up front, coveted seats that Alex had saved by getting there an hour early on the bus. I said “Hi” and extended my apologies for being late.

“Tho thsorry,” I sighed with a slight lisp from my new Invisaligns. (I would later learn Alex thought my orthodontia-induced speech impediment was pretty

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