We skip class. We bail. We ditch. Taller than our teachers, deeper-voiced, goateed, we smirk with secret knowledge we ourselves don‘t fully understand–and get the hell out of there. We hang out. We kill time. We loiter, a snickering band of cigarette-butt-flicking, loogie-hockers making the grocery shoppers, gas-pumpers and ATM line-waiters of the town nervous. Are we mocking them, these disciples of the afternoon errand? Probably we are, though the logic of it eludes even us.
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