Sublime

A perfect restaurant: linoleum and vinyl and hugging owners and a dusting of feta on all the food. Sometimes the giant windows were open to the street and the smelly sunshine poured in, but usually it was a place to hide from the rain, full of steaming wet coats and intense conversations. I went here with anyone and everyone, or with a book. One

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Gregg’s wife packs him the most elaborate lunches Colette has ever seen, with all the food in undersized portions: tiny sandwiches, miniature quiches, itty-bitty salads in old baby food jars, cupcakes no bigger than a quarter. “Can you imagine living with the woman who packs those lunches?” Vic asked. “His choices are probably to come here or stay

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