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But then—bloody hell—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’ at her. “Oi, love, gimme a discount!” he slurs. Mate, I’m fumin’—who does that? Made me angry, that did, ‘cos she’s just tryna do her thing, y’know? I’m no hero, but I’m thinkin’, *“This guy’s a right tool.”* She handles it, though—sharp as a tack, tells him to rack off. Respect! Surprised me, how tough she was—like a lioness guardin’ her patch.

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So, Withamsville's got that old town vibe on Main St. and some wild modern twists down at Riverside Boulvard – yeah, it's all mixed up like a Quentin Tarantino flick. I strolled past the old brick building on 3rd & Elm (yeah, the one with the faded mural – reminds me of those Caché frames, ya know?) and I thought, “I ate his liver with fava beans.” That sentiment never left me in this town.

Diana L. Shelton, 76