...and he secretly liked my best friend. (2/x)
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A short history of me + Kramers: In high school, a senior boy took me (a sophomore) on an impromptu date there one frigid night, where we drank lattes and talked about Borroughs, and it all felt impossibly sophisticated and magical—except I secretly liked his best friend... (1/x)https://twitter.com/AlexKomaWCP/status/1262788250491596801 …
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The summer after we graduated college, that same best friend waited tables at Kramer’s, and I — then an NYT newsclerk in DC — spent almost every weekend morning there, hungover, cadging free food and mimosas as we recounted our exploits from the night before. (3/x)
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And now my reading taste can best be described as “front table at Kramer’s.” In short: I am impossibly sad. (4/4)
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End of conversation
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Oh what a tangled web you wove
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Ahh sweet memories.
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Oh no. I went there often in mid 80’s. Remember the Steve’s icecream nearby.
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This and After Words were my fave places when I lived in D.C. This is horse muck.
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Nice outfit Ashley.
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Well, for God’s sake, what happened to him?? You can’t just stop!
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I admire your writing ability.....talent is a thing
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