Aperol Spritz

I got up from my barstool soon after she ordered her Aperol Sprtiz. We both knew her delicate posterior was more deserving of comfort than my pasty ass. She was fiddling about on her phone, like I was, trying to find the perfect, or at least most easily accessible, emoji to express the ephemera of a heart inside the ribcage of a beautiful young woman on a sunny afternoon in Bryant Park on the first day of the Memorial Day weekend.
If this is not what members of the military sacrificed their lives for – the ability of the citizens of a free society to drink a cocktail, listen to a pleasantly sub-par cover band, soak up the sun and breathe the open air surrounding people who are comfortable expressing their thoughts, their dreams, and their fantasies – than nothing is.

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