There’s an establishment a couple blocks from my apartment called Assets. It’s on a corner lot of two busy streets in a gentrified neighborhood. It has an all black awning, a blacked out glass door, and no windows. There are no hours posted and no signage except a “Black Lives Matter” mural on one wall (just the matter-of-fact statement, not artsy), and the name “Assets” in big, bright pink script above the door. In a year of living here, I have only ever seen one person coming or going from this establishment: a content-looking 10-year-old boy walking out the door at around noon on what I think was a weekday.
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