Things that wouldn't go bad quickly

Witherbee's, the grocery store across the street from my apartment in Flint, closed recently. Check out the essay I wrote about it for the Detroit Huffington Post.

The store had the feeling, stubbornly, of a party. There was generically cheerful music playing more loudly than you'd expect over the speakers -- "Sweet Caroline," maybe some Stevie Wonder, I don't really remember -- and the narrow aisles of Witherbee's, the self-proclaimed first downtown Flint grocery store in over 30 years, faltered under the strain of the shoppers who had descended like vultures upon its discounted corpse.