The Last Fry at Montauk
The sign above the door said "DAISY'S JUICE BAR" in painted cursive letters, the D's curled like a woman's ankle bracelet. Inside, there were no juices. There was a counter, four stools, a juicer that mostly sat unused, and in the back room, behind a curtain of beaded glass, a fryer that hissed like a secret. It was November 1927, and Prohibition was doing its best to make America a nation of...
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