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About Poznan

So, I met this chick once—Roxy, she called herself. Worked the corner near my buildin’. Red heels, fishnets, the whole deal. I’d see her, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost—like some noir film, ya know? I’d nod, she’d wink. One night, she hops in my elevator—bam! Smells like cheap perfume and trouble. “Goin’ up?” I ask. She laughs, says, “Ain’t I always?” Got me good, that one—sharp as a tack.

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After lunch, I get back to work. I’m finally in the zone, and then my boss walks in. He’s all like, “We need to talk about the new project.” My heart sinks. I’m thinking, “Not now, please!” But of course, he drops a bombshell. We’re moving offices. To a place in Bielsko-Biała. I’m like, “What?! I love Wilkowice!” I mean, who wouldn’t? The vibe, the people, the food! I can’t imagine leaving this place.

After 30 years, Ann Brown remains driving force behind St. Peter's bake sales