It was her annual trip...
...when in an elevator she had traveled in over half her life, she pointed to the worn patch of wood and said, "This is still here."
After dinner the missing of mothers drifted into words.
I looked up.
What was still here was how certain nights still felt like Florence if she were a New York evening.
So we wandered and looked at what was still here.
The MBIPTGIF Happy Hour. - This Week: Johnny Vig’s
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*It’s Friday and that can only mean one thing: Happy Hour!*
*This week we’re spotlighting Johnny Vig’s in the Metro Centre, so let’s
get going and let’s...
13 hours ago