The coffee shop was squeezed between a shop front and a street corner in Downtown; it spilled lethargically onto the street. To the north, the great park at the heart of the city lay under a brassy sky; the sun a swirl of molten gold as it slowly began to dip beneath the horizon.
Saul SpringfieldCrowleysat in a rumpled suit at one of the street-side tables. It had been another long day, of dashing to- and fro-; he was glad to find this peaceful space, on the street where the thin crowds wandered, contented, into the reluctant summer evening. While he ate some pie, he allowed himself to appreciate the rank of greenery to the north and the radiant white-and-terracotta of the Presbyterian Church.
He was waiting on Sasha, the dancer he had first encountered at that most curious bookstore and who had visited his pub on opening night. Was it a date? Nope. Nosir! Meeting of minds? Hopefully. Solidifying business contacts? Tentatively. She was a dance instructor and he had a pub squarely aimed at a niche - alternative - market. Would she turn up? The question pressed onto his wounded ego and he found himself drumming on the table for no apparent reason.
Selena L'aire