When the older man enters the soda shop, Nev ignores him and continues wiping down the counter. The usual customers are teenagers right after school. But it’s 5:30 now, and Nev just wants to finish up his chores and get home.
“Coca Cola, son,” the man says. He must be over 40, and wears a business hat and fedora, carrying a briefcase. Nev fills the glass and takes it over to the bar stool.
They share some incidentals. The man works in the city and takes the train to work every day. The high schooler relates that his mom works two jobs; his dad hasn’t been around since he was 2, so he pitches in when he can.
“That you I see smoking with the Zoot suiters some days near the train station?” the man asks. Continue reading
“I’m telling you, these are the best doughnuts in town,” my Florida friend claims. 
Thursday night is pizza night. I begin to salivate when I call ahead and order our margherita pizza. With roasted red peppers. And spinach. 