Your whitewall tires cruise down Main Street and park along a curb blanketed under a starry night. You enter a place where all ages gather, bellies fill with sugar, and a jukebox plays. You sit on a swivel barstool at a countertop as polished as your parents’ Corvette outside. The clerk standing behind the counter smiles as they fill tall glasses with carbonated water, thick brown syrup, and the occasional malted milk. The final product is slid your way, and you eagerly pull the red and white striped straw to your lips and indulge in the sweet sensation coating your taste buds.
You may have guessed it; you’re at the soda fountain…
Also, There’s No Need To Crinkle Those Pages
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