The windows open out onto the busy street, letting golden afternoon sunlight spill across the hardwood floor. The wood-topped tables gleam warmly, and the logo, 'Jeanne's Coffee', sends curlicue shadows looping across the floor. The seats of the chairs are soft green leather, worn to a shine with much use.
A waitress in a green apron wipes the counter, her honey blonde hair swept up into a bun. Behind her, racks of white mugs glint above the gleaming silver mechanisms of caffinated delight. She bounces on sensible heels to the deep bins filled to bursting with dark, fragrant beans, scooping them out into tidy little one-pound bags. She begins stacking the plump brown bags beside the cash register, humming a sad tune.
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