a man across the room
he sips cautiously from his steaming mug
the tell-tale swift inhalation informs me that the beverage is putting up a fight.

a woman behind the counter never ceases smiling
candy-apple hair dances in pillars around her rounded, ivory face as she repeatedly thrusts lattes into the paws of spoiled customers
the buzz and bustle of the early risers makes her look like she could use a cup for herself.

Someone coughs
Keyboards click
Newspapers crinkle
An elderly man cackles at the morning news, oh young people these days.

What draws us in? What makes this coffee house home?
Could it be the familiarity? The warm, toffey-colored walls? Squashy armchairs help, no doubt. Maybe for some the wafting
smell of roasted beans churning circles in a blender is what brings them in. As for myself, I enjoy the predictability.
The personas, the artists, the democrats, the rebublicans, the posers, the actuals, and everyone in between: I enjoy knowing
exactly what we all come together in this one room for. I adore the warm, slow-sweeping feeling of peace
that this myriad of folks emits.No matter how rushed, how completely stressed out of their minds they are, each one has time
for coffee. To myslef, meaning that each one knows how to take a moment out of the day, the precious gift that they live, to
breathe and enjoy. Even if it's only for the five minutes I wait in line, I prefer the company of those who know what is most
important in life.