The brass bell attached to the top corner of the old oak door rang as he pushed his way into the quiant coffee shop. The smell of freshly roasted coffee and sandal wood incense made an aromatic refreshing pair.
Buried in their books, laptops, and writings, the patrons barely acknowledged his presence. He made his way to the counter which was situated against a very old and worn brick wall. As he approached he noticed the counter didn't belong in a coffee shop. The polished mahogany stretched almost the entire span of the wall. It brought an image forward he only had read about and saw in movies. A 1930s speakeasy. That's where this handcrafted bar would have been more suited.