It is a sunny day in Jefferson Westside Neighbors. At a local coffeeshop sunlight streams through large windows while the espresso machine whirs into action, coffee aroma rises and seeps into one’s nose and clothes.
10:40 – Baristas and customers say, “good morning!” to each other. There is a couple eating croissants and drinking dark roasted coffee. Over tinny speakers comes Ella Fitzgerald’s voice.
Highbacked chairs gather sunlight. A man scribbles on a notepad and takes intermittent sips from a black coffee cup. On the wall is an assortment of old teapots and dessert plates.
10:50 – A barista wipes down lacquered tables and moves screeching chairs across the floor. Silverware chuckles in bins as he takes them to the back for cleaning.
“Do you want medium or dark roast?” says the cashier to a waiting customer
10:54 – Change jangles in the pocket of a patron as he fishes forth a quarter. He grabs the bag containing his bagel. Hands crinkle the waxy paper.
The long bank of display cases in the L-shaped cafe are a runway for the indecisive. They stare at cakes, cookies and gelatos wondering what to eat.
10:57 – “Biscuits and gravy,” says the cashier pushing the plate across the counter. A grey-haired man shuffles forward and takes the plate in two hands. He returns to his seat and cuts a large bite while his wife squints at the paper.
“Trade me places,” she says. “The light hurts my eyes.”
11:00 – A thin, balding man contemplates between two muffins. He surrenders and buys both. Beck sings an accoustic set over the speakers. The hardwood ceiling offsets the lime-green paint and the smell of banana and coffee waft through the air.
11:04 – The clunk of a grounds dispenser interrupts a barista who says, “My cat woke me up kissing my mouth. It was really cute.” The other barista fills the filters with dark brown grounds for a new batch of coffee.
One customer feels jittery from the coffee. His leg bounces up and down while he looks impatiently at his iPhone. The old couple discuss politics. Someone has arranged the biscotti in columns behind a plastic case, beside it sits a basket of bagels.
11:08 – A delivery woman wearing high-heeled boots asks about an order. The cashier wearing a tweed hat with pheasant feathers in the brim returns with three pink boxes. In an awkward orchestra they fit the boxes into the delivery bag.
11:10 – A glass-door refrigerator purrs and cools bottles of tea, while the counter opposite displays pictures of dogs and coffee cups with logos. It is a quaint and comfortable spot.