empire cafe

This is the kind of place one retreats to for quiet space, for unique coffee and unintentional eavesdropping. The barista breaks up his shift by playfully sliding down the banister of the spiral staircase as he moves coffee about the place. People come and go with their dogs, their surfboards, in with their worries, out with their presence of freedom and contentment. One particular local walks in with his half-labrador, half-bear companion Zeus, and I'm quite certain his head alone weighs more than me. The wireless password is "bestcoffeeintown" and I don't speak lightly when I say agree.

Senses are awakened here. Its easy to get lost in the hum of conversation and the buzz of caffein. I can see the ocean through the window. I try to notice the swell and the tide and the wind in the waves, as if I've picked up enough of surfer lingo to ease my way into a conversation, but I'm more interested in the peace that comes over me when I'm submerged in the water.

The ocean floor is a holy place. God is in the waves.

God is most certainly in this coffee.

I will undoubtedly leave this place with the smell of yeast and sugar woven into my burgundy sweater like a monogram, and I will wear it proudly.