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on wanting to be liked.
My day begins with a visit to the mean barista.
He’s dressed in his typical uniform: NPR hat, art nonprofit t-shirt peeking out beneath an open flannel. A tome rests, face-down, on the counter. I’d wager there’s a New Yorker tote stashed just outside the frame. His face resembles that emoji composed entirely of straight lines, a series of unamused dashes…