During my first big editorial meeting at Seattle Met, I pitched a supremely sun-soaked summertime story: an ode to the crowded Seattle beach. In a few short weeks, the world changed, and I found myself fleeing at the sight of an oncoming human, seeking out a six-foot buffer. My treatise on the literal opposite of social distancing—though I’m sure it would’ve amassed an admirable number of hate-clicks—fell by the wayside.
But here I stand, at the precipice of the summer of 2023, with a beach towel and a dream: laying said beach towel weirdly close to someone I’ve never met before. Ideally with a page-turning
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