Adjusting himself, Sebastián staggers from his bedroom, pulling out a monster wedgie. He smells his fingers. Nothing...

Four men make their way up to Nostalgia from Hoyt along Warren like an arrow. Silent are their steps, quick, their pace.

A symphony of traffic jams, frustration, opportunity, and indulgence lullaby and inflame. Thick, ominous clouds hang low south of Park Slope