“Zoo-zoo?” A grungy, bespectacled young man to my left shouts across the train platform. A cyclist, rolling idly down the street on what is perhaps the smallest bike I’ve ever seen, takes notice. “A-zoo-Bomb!” The youth next to me concludes, and the two of them wave to each other.
“You going to the pile?” The first inquires.
“Yeah, I’m gonna hang there for a bit, and I’ll be up for the first run,” The cyclist drawls.
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