The Taste of Time at the Mecca

Their arrival is reliable — ritualistic, even. The woman at table No. 2 who returns each Tuesday for the fried chicken special, and the judges who come in a pair on weekday mornings before hearing courtroom debates. They slide into dark wooden booths with tall mirrors rippled by time and flanked by dim, decorative sconces. They sit across rust-red tables or at the bar on swiveling…

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