oak panelling will no longer absorb the odors and laughter.
With great trepidation, with great desire for a bit of joyful closure
I selected one last tin of lemon bars.
I finished my meal (not bad, if you've ever enjoyed salt cod) and
creaked open the plastic. A fork slid in ... and was repulsed. As if
it had hit rubber.
I dug deeper, I raised the cakey substance and bit in. A chemically
midness with an acrid finish.
Alas, the last lemon bar was unedible and left to be swept away with
the day's debris.
My time here is done. Burritos from Tate or fried pickles from the
Blind Pig call.
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