saxikath and I were just in one of the office kitchens, where someone had not yet taken their toast from the toaster. The smell of the toast was fresh and crisp, and it reminded me of this little diner around the corner from my childhood home. The diner, at the top of the subway stairs, was run by Jack, a Greek-American with a mustache and an accent, and he used to make these delicious grilled cheese sandwiches. I remember when I was a kid, Mom used to take my brothers and me there, where we would eat the grilled cheese sandwiches and drink these frosty, thick, vanilla milkshakes.
Years later, Jack retired and sold the place, and it became one store after another. Jack found out that he didn't like retirement, so he took a job as a doorman at one of the neighborhood apartment buildings. Eventually he passed on.
I miss the diner. And now I'm craving a grilled cheese sandwich.