What to say to your only white gay guy friend who's scared of hypothetically losing his privileges in the imperial core
Picture the situation. It's 2031 and due to the imminent civil war, people are exiting the States (LOL) in waves. Some aunt twice removed from the late Yia Yia (may God rest her restless soul) miraculously pulled the strings for you to leave under plea of asylum two weeks before the DFW airport is set to be demolished. You will be staying with an unmarried great aunt three times removed, outside of Thessaloniki. As you approach auntie's house (which is gorgeous, obviously), you make out the silhouette of her landscaper, lopping away at her olive trees. Could that be...? Time feels so slow, but the eternity inside you passes and you reach the door. Both of you turn, and there he is. Dimitris.
Author's Note: So when are you taking my advice about sluttily picking up trash on Brighton Beach?