Always nice to me though he didn't have to be. He made me feel special and valued in a place i'd come to think of as home. He was the final thing to convince me I belonged. That I was supposed to be there, and I wasn't faking anything. I'd walk up and we'd exchange pleasantries and he'd stamp my hand, refuse my money and wave me in with a "sweetie" or a "baby" or a "honey". I wish i'd paid more attention to which he called me, but it made me feel nice, anyway. It was particularly fun when there were people behind me that he made pay. I felt like some VIP at a much fancier club. But this was my space, my home. And he made me feel welcome with a smile and a chuckle. I miss him already.
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