Breaking: Mark’s Cafe to Be Replaced by French Patisserie With Little Chef Hats

In the bottom of a well-frequented building lives one man’s little kingdom. He possesses great riches, but whence they come few know. There, he treats his children well.

They come, weary-eyed, touched by fatigue. They are gasping for air, they seek salvation. And when they ask, he delivers. 

Traipsing down stairs like withered soldiers, he beckons them in, doors open like forged arms. They try to thank him for his salvation; some, even, will reach into their back-pockets to spare some change, but he will hush their attempts, the great father he is. For in this land, handouts are abundant. The gifts of the earth are for communal sharing, given to those who need, whenever they should need. 

And the man who treats his children like this, legend has it, goes by one name. 

Mark. 

He said let there be cheese curls, and cheese curls there were. 

He said let there be Diet Coke, and Diet Coke there was. 

Now, he says let there be a boulangerie stocked full with all the pastries and escargots and arrondissments and Macrons one could wish for, and so, thus there shall be. 

Mark treats his children well; he asks you to enjoy the pleasures he has gained in this lucky lifetime, and to indulge. 

May you eat, good people.