Reflecting on a year of never being indoors out of the house for more than 5-10 minutes at a time. Years in San Francisco prepared me for endless queuing, but now as things seem like they’re slowly inching back to normal, I’m wondering if a line outside a shop will ever register as anything noteworthy ever again.

Routine starts to develop at the new place. LaColombe in the morning, B-Twentyfour if I’ve got a wild hair. Regular visits to the Heights for sandwiches. Realizing that no one who “knows” me as a regular knows what my face looks like.

Saw a guy I’ve cruised before at coffee the other morning, a guy who I regularly chat with on the apps. I was dressed like a slob, hadn’t shaved, bags like loaded paniers under my eyes. I fell into the old mental dance of “how do I avoid his gaze, how do I dodge this exchange?” but then realized… we’ve never seen each other’s faces in real life, this one chance encounter made possible by the fact he was unmasked while walking his dog on the river trail. I took a breath and passed geradeaus with nary a blip on the radar.