I stopped at the front counter, near a little glass warming bin full of the best soft pretzels in America and probably the world. I don’t know how they were made, but they tasted like they were deep-fried; they actually had kind of a crust on them, dusted with cinnamon and sugar. There’s nothing spooky or dramatic about them, so I suppose I could just skip this part, but you know what? Fuck it, I’m going to eat a giant pretzel, and you’re going to read about it.
