Flashback two evenings. I am walking 2.7 km (1.7 miles) to Pizza Hut. Sunset has become twilight, and the air is cool but not chill. About two-thirds of the way along, I pull out iPhone 7 Plus to place my order—to which I am rudely informed: “Location permanently closed”. Huh? This gotta be a mistake. My last order was September 23rd, and it is only October 14th; there was no indication such doom loomed ahead. I just have to know for sure and proceed to find the store dark and empty with a sign about moving to “Texas Street”.
So, I haul down University Ave., from North Park back towards University Heights. In the distance, at Texas, a Pizza Hut sign brightly beckons. But the shop isn’t yet open for business. I am beguiled. Twenty-four hours pass, and my yearning for dough, cheese, sauce, and hearty toppings is relentless. I walk to Dominos, where prices twice as high kill my crust lust. I leave without a pie but take along this picture. Whither Windows?