Bye Bye Jardine Bakery.

I’m going to miss you. You were always there for me. Cold early mornings in winter, braving the rain. Hot summer days, lazily drinking coffee, watching pretty girls go by. Impromptu meetings with lost friends in the queue. Getting laughed at for asking for a bacon croissant after 10am. Eating gourmet dogs, with onions dripping down my chin. The sushi on rye, crisp and slightly healthy, during detox. Those little empanadas, weird, but tasty. The little chourizo and egg tartlet thingy, a one-bite bit of breakfast heaven. Oh, and perhaps most of all, the pork belly and braised apple pie. Fuck I’m going to miss that.

Yes, your owner looks like an extra from a Hell’s Angel movie and tells bad jokes, but we put up with him. After all, the guy can bake. And he drives a Land Cruiser. But, you’re closing. Onto your next thing. I guess, the time has come to say goodbye.

Don’t call me, I’ll call you. It’s nothing personal. I just need some space. However you want to say it, you’re saying it. It’s over. And we’ll miss you. Bastard.

Goodbye Jardine Bakery.

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* no tears were shed in the writing of this article.

**okay, maybe just a few.