Under the harsh glow of the single lightbulb, a gay man stands alone, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He looks at the worn-out jacket hanging on the chair, a reminder of the man who once owned it. With a deep breath, he picks it up, feeling the rough, textured fabric against his fingers. He brings it to his nose, inhaling the faint scent that still clings to it. It's not the man's scent, but it's close enough. He slips it on, zipping it up, feeling a sense of connection, of belonging. It's a poor substitute, but it's all he has.