Museum of Love - And All the Winners

Apropos of nothing, my friends became enamored with a diner in town called The Very Best, which meant that they dragged us down there every loose afternoon to talk, study, and read. It was unclear, even after I spent what amounted to whole days there, whether or not the diner’s name was intended as assurance for the customers, or more as a reflexive shot in the arm for the owners. The diner had a flat, sad façade, all faded glass and thick paint, and it sat between two vacant storefronts, one of which still had a ghostly marquee that read ‘Forever Appliances,’ that struck me then as subtly heartbreaking. To get to the diner, we had to descend from the school, down a flight of maroon stone steps, to High Street, the town’s main thoroughfare, and then walk five precarious blocks, in tight formation, to the long, forlorn shopping center that housed our little hotspot. On our way, we passed shuttered coffeeshops and luncheonettes, slick hairdesseries, a fenced-in tool and die, and several off-brand department stores, not to mention ambling packs of male and female street toughs, and flocks of pensive stoop-sitters. High Street, as we knew, was the definitive border between town and gown. When we finally arrived at the diner, and had installed ourselves in one of the high-backed wooden booths, we were usually all flush-cheeked, windblown, and hungry. This was the time for talking.

[BUY Museum of Love]

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