Oct. 19th, 2010
What a rad place. Totes cool.
Decent coffee, too. Fair trade, organic... the such.
It brims with hipsters and indie style. Everyone and their apple paraphernalia, their tight pants, and tattoos.
The girl next to me has a stocking cap on, an uninspiring combo of skirt and tights, and absolutely massive hunter orange knee socks. She's got face rings up the wazoo, and totally fucking retro sneakers. Unlaced, of course.
Up on surrounding shelves there are old beer jugs, bottles.
Older tea tins, jars.
A sad little bakery shelf sits on the counter. It needs better illumination. I'd want to buy a treat if it were less pasty and janky looking.
Now that I think about, some of their wall hangings could be organized into a more pleasing layout.
But hey! These are the quirks that make a place like this charming, do they not?
The more damaged... the more revered something is, isn't it?
Two couples just walked in.
One's definitely official... have been together for a while.
The other is probably just out on their first few dates, if not the first.
The first two came in holding hands, chatted with the barista, ordered, goofed around.
The second pair stood a measured distance apart at the counter as they carefully chose their drinks.
He listened attentively to her, she picked at threads while he paid.
He lets her lead the way. She's been here once, which is once more than him.
Small talk, uninteresting stories, awkward chatter laughter.
They're not to be envied.
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