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Within an hour, the laundromat-turned-center was packed. Ash brought the zine. Paris arrived in sweats, her wig off, holding a casserole. The gay men’s chorus showed up and, without asking, sang “Over the Rainbow” so softly it felt like a prayer.

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And they are still writing it. One cracked mirror, one lit lantern, one chosen family at a time. Within an hour, the laundromat-turned-center was packed