Blizzard. No. Syrup Smacks


Syrup has a strange existence. It doesn’t have the flow of a pocketwatch, nor the sting of a turpentine fairy’s scepter in the middle of a February blizzard. No. Syrup smacks of squeezed opportunity, the kind you’d find on your walk to the neighborhood dentist while conversing with a friend you’d just made the night before over bridge and lattes.

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