‘Straight from the sea to your plate,’ the flaking, lop-sided sign boasted with pride.
As you passed by, the sizzle and smell of grilling squid lured you in. Behind the clam-shell decorated bar, multi-coloured bottles played tricks with the light. The warming fragrance of Mediterranean figs and olives filled the air. There was never any music – the lilting call of distant gulls and gentle rolls of the deep blue Aegean, the only background his loyal guests ever wanted.
To some it may have been a grimy corner of midtown Detroit, but to Old Mr Papadopoulos it was his little piece of home.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.