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Frankie appeared beside him. “That’s Danny. He opened this place in ’82. He said, ‘If they won’t let us into heaven, we’ll build our own basement.’”

Leo took her hand. It was warm and calloused.

And in the basement on Mulberry Street, the rainbows kept spinning, the coffee kept brewing, and the transgender community, wrapped in the fierce, ridiculous, glorious arms of LGBTQ+ culture, danced on.

“That obvious?” Leo mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.