My dearest, I write from war torn Pioneer Courthouse Square. The single-bean coffee is running out, we haven’t long before craft cocktails are gone, too. I’ve seen folks walk around with empty bags from Kenny and Zuke’s, their Lululemon torn asunder. Even the hot yoga studios have fallen. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, check for my remains near my fixie as I am heading out to the battle in the Alphabet district. Know my last thoughts were of you and Salt & Straw.

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