6
“Hi Harvey,” Cynthia said with a broad, white smile. Her hair was in twisted braids on top of her head, and she looked wonderful. I would have looked like an aged Heidi of the goat herders.
“Oh, hi Cynthia. Good to see you.” I glanced past her toward the six-pack of Starr Hill Love beer that I could see behind her. “Would you mind grabbing me one of those?”
“Definitely. That beer is so good.”
I glanced at the Natty Bo can in her hand and smiled.
“This beer is not good. Not at all, but it tastes like home to me, so . . .”
“You’re from Baltimore?” National Bohemian Beer was the unofficial beer of Baltimore City. The mascot, Mr. Natty Bo himself with his huge handlebar moustache, stood over the factory and blinked in neon across the city day and night.
“Yep. Grew up in Fells Point, b
