The café sells coffee and ambience and gourmet breakfast sandwiches.
The walls are exposed brick and they sell nitrogen-infused iced coffee. The tip jars read, “Mayweather,” “McGregor,” and “Decency,” respectively. (“Decency” has the most cash.)
Customers discuss boredom, Twin Peaks (the show), and the beef between Ryan Adams and Father John Misty (aka Sir Elton Asshole).
“I like his lyrics,” somebody says.
In the corner a customer who ordered a pour-over has been waiting minutes for his drink attempts to nonchalantly check his watch. Repeatedly. (He grows more nervous as he runs out of body language to communicate genial, Midwestern patience).
He has a friend outside (also waiting), who ordered a simple coffee and breakfast burrito. (In the future, when the pour-over finishes they will visit the bridge near city hall and discuss Hegel, boat ownership, and relationships. But this hasn’t happened yet.
Because the customer is still waiting for the tasty pour-over).
They continue to wait.