Percival McNamara turned his jacket collar up to the icy wind as he hurried toward the quaint, Victorian-styled, two story coffee shop on the corner. The Whole Latte Heart Coffee Bar & Beanery was a staple in his morning routine and, quite frankly, his favorite part of what was otherwise quite typically a day which would rate somewhere between melancholy and downright distasteful.
By all accounts Percy was a successful man. He was 27, blond, blue eyed, and adequately built. He well-dressed, today in a pair of blue slacks with a pressed white Oxford shirt and rich gold tie. His gray peacoat did it’s best to shield him from the buffeting of the wind.
He was relatively young, but had the distinction of running a small practice in town specializing in divorce law. It had been his father’s practice, one which he’d been helping out at since he was a teen, but after his father passed suddenly a couple years ago the whole thing fell to him. He sometimes wondered if his line of work is what left him too jaded to hold down a steady relationship for more than a few months.
He was shaken from his thoughts as the bell dinged above the door as he walked into his favorite place on earth. A smile crept across his face as the familiar smells and atmosphere hit him. He was pleased to see only two people in line ahead of him. He stepped into line behind the other two patrons, looking around them for any sign of the thing that made this place the most special.
Behind the counter a barista worked quickly with her back turned readying drinks for the customers. The brunette never missed a beat, stirring, frothing, and mixing as she danced through the kitchen. “Well good morning, gorgeous! Chipper as ever I see!” Percy called out.