Quoted By:
As the warm air hits her in the face, even Jimena finds the insides of Tienda De Cafe to be somewhat alluring. Behind its wide wooden front desk, buried under glass display cabinets full of pastries next to trays with napkins and very small empty glasses, the backroom and sink are in full display yet hard to see behind the young men working hard in it.
All in uniform; all busy.
Just like us.
The small square tables, shining under a layer of glass, are surrounded either by tall, skinny bar stools or by red or blue wingback chairs, simple yet bulky. As Jimena follows Erika, neither of them strikes a pattern in the shop’s decoration, which range from pictures of old movies spanning whole walls to an actual fucking motorcycle hanging over their heads. In the end, if Tienda De Cafe had a theme it failed; it draws its charm from its asymmetry.
ᕙ <span class="mu-s">Jimena</span>: <span class="mu-i">(So; where-)</span>
■-■ <span class="mu-s">Erika</span>: <span class="mu-i">(You will notice her.)</span>
And she does, because, how couldn’t she? Sitting at the table by the window, the one next to the long one crowded by a rowdy bunch of teenagers (half of them staring at their cellphones), is a lone girl wearing striking colors. Jimena’s instinctive reaction to the long, pink hair is one of rejection- too much anime- but even that is drowned when she looks for her arms.
