It was not the first time I’d been, but was the first time you were there. You had plastic gloves and you and your companion both recommended the falafel wraps. Ignoring the cheese and tomato garnish, I distracted you with questions about the refurbishment. You were proud, you had high expectations. You did not know or care where the owners went. You bought the place and painted it white. Being in your café was like standing on a cliff and looking over the lip, surrounded by the sounds of the outside world but all kept away by a thin brink.
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