It’s a late Sunday in April, sunny with just enough pretty clouds drifting by, the kind of day you’ve been waiting all year. A soft breeze tiptoes through the back patio of Sour Milk, one of Fresno’s most eccentric gift shops. Somewhere in the background, you hear Bob Marley singing “every little thing is gonna be alright,” and you believe him.
Around the patio, the air hums with a kind of beautiful, low-stakes chaos. Gushers wrappers crinkle, Capri Suns are slurped and tossed aside, the unmistakable scent of Doritos and Cheetos lingers like summer.
You see hands moving with mismatched rhythm, flipping through faded photos. Tables scattered with stickers of wonky-eyed cartoon characters and scraps torn from old magazines and postcards. Someone lights a joint with the same casual ease as uncapping a glue stick. A few folks lean back, gummy edibles tucked in cheeks, giggling at the absurdity of a Lisa Frank dolphin sticker next to a super important newspaper clipping…