Cup of Joe

The bell above the door rings with an old fashion jingle, a quaint silver bell hanging in its path. The man who walked in took no notice of the bell coming or going. He seemed in a low mood; his suit disheveled, dark hair run through till it hung lazily where it fell. Glancing around he saw the environment he had entered for the first time.

A coffee shop, walls were an expresso color, the tables a warm wood with leather seats. There was a homey, earthy scent to the air tha...