“This place was a service garage,” AJ said, calmly, sipping at her coffee and looking around. There was interest in her soft blue eyes. The wall that had drawn her attention was mostly made of a steal frame garage door, made to function as a window. During the spring, sometimes the employees would push the door open on its metal rollers, letting the cool float through into the café. The parking lot suddenly would become part of the shop itself, spotted with small wood tables with high gloss finishes and little mismatching chairs.

I sat across from AJ, my back to the door. This place was a kind of sanctuary; a place to relax. “Yeah, I know.” I answered stomping to draw her attention to the painted concrete of the floor. Had it been empty, the Crossroads café would have looked just like a garage. As it was, it looked like a place of modernized Southern Comfort, decked out in warm yellows, maroons.

“Garage...” Jane mumbled into the soft yellow lighting. She was sprawled across one of the oversized couches; the couch was obviously built more for comfort then looks. A worn cherry wood chest served as a table, and was currently crowded with several magazines and a Scrabble board covered in wood letters. “Perfect!” She spelled out the word “garage” across a triple word score slot.

The concrete-block walls were painted a deep maroon and a very rich yellow, accented by the chipped yellow of the concrete floors. Soft blue and purple lanterns hung from the high ceilings. The front counter was decked in promotional posters for plays and art galleries and piled high with giant home baked cookies and cakes.

The back walls were covered in massive chalkboards, screaming out the specials and coffee flavors in an array of pastel colors. The blue room to the side housed a large family party; they laughed and drank coffee and root beer, keeping the waitress on her toes. The woman was older, her gray hair left long and streaming down her back. She smiled softly, wiping her hands on her apron as she set down a croissant sandwich in front of me. “It’s just the way you like it, hun.” She winked, her voice thick, slow and undeniably Southern.

“Hey, AJ, Mina; we’re starting a new game. Come join us.” Chris hollered, wrapping his arm a little closer around his Jane. The whole group gathered around the game board laughed, all in a good humor, as we joined in, melding into the circle of players. “Okay let’s see who goes first,” He tossed a large, twenty-sided dice into the air. “Call it!”

::mina::