Sweat by Nicholas Ward I’m on Van Buren in the Loop, trudging to the Blue Line from Lollapalooza, when the man approaches. Years later, I will imagine that he watched from afar, following me, seeking out what he must have thought was a kindred spirit. “And how are you tonight?” he asks, sidling up on my left. I raise an eyebrow but keep walking. “I’m. . .fine,” I say reluctantly. From Grant Park, I can still hear the sounds of […]

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