I can still remember the police tape, blockade, and cinders coming from your building. I was grief stricken that I may never get to see you, smell you, or taste you ever again.

I sank into despair as I drove by the remains on South Street every day - why did you have to leave me? What would I do without you? Would I be able to live with myself after I'd moved on to someone else?

Then yesterday, your old window looked oddly inhabited - you've come back to me! I've missed you - nothing could replace you. Never leave me again.—Focaccia Bread Fanatic