We waited outside a car service for our ride to bring us to brunch. We sat on an oversized air conditioning unit. Talked about people walking by. Skinny musician guy with the early-2000s fro. Seeming-harelip-concealing-mustache, dirty white skinny jeans, pointedly ugly jumper dude. We watched people pass by right to left. The always-pumping ventricles of Long Island City were the biological necessity that grounded our felicity. We espied to the left an everyday sight, an ATM, to which some maverick genius know-it-all added two Es and ended up with a miracle: EATME.