.
A village of rich a mile from the poor.
Home to the WASP divorcee and the married WASP adjacent.
You pass it every day for fifteen years and going never occurs to you. You go in and your very presence makes you think you're losing money.
Yves Delorme, Williams Sonoma, Monument Sotheby's, Octavia, Talbots, Chezelle: The very names smell of money as much as Daisy Buchanan.
On the bistros' outside decks sit septuagenarians who double as walk-in closets for haute couture.
Jesus, there's even a place called "The Store, Ltd."
Right next door is Poly High, where northwest Baltimore's promising poor can grasp their future if they hold a grip of iron.
What would happen when they go into Cross Keys?
The truth is, Cross Keys is a brutalist dump. The one minimall in Baltimore that convinced its 1975 customers they were shopping in the world of tomorrow.
Three miles downtown is Charles Center, a thirty-story village against Cross Keys three, where tomorrow's always been inhabited by ghosts and City Hall workers at lunchtime. Charles Center, Baltimore's future where none have dared go at night for fifty years.
Somewhere in Baltimore, there is a city.
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