On the 4th of July in Atlanta, 60,000 people wake up at the cracking of dawn and run a 10K called The Peachtree Road Race. It starts at 7:30 AM. The cold water here is warm. Heat rises visibly off the asphalt - invisible cobras. Cream cheese is shunned. Someone offered a Michelob Ultra at mile five. It was sitting in a chest of ice, and I mistakenly consumed it. Three blocks later, a grown six foot man breastfed on a balcony overlooking the street. Or maybe he was putting his mouth on a biscuit. A shitty band played Bob Seger, shittily. People lit off firecrackers, in daylight. A small girl burned birthday napkins. Southern white people like to light things on fire.

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