It seems to rarely be open, no matter the time of day or time of year. But today, with the fog from the ocean ebbing and flowing like the tide, I sit - again - across the street, sipping another soy latte. Munching on a hazelnut brandy biscotti. And above the cement wall decorated with sidewalk chalk, where the next night's guest musician is announced, a waiter all in black and a half apron comes out of the ivy and overgrowing bush and. Lights a torch. A light in the growing darkness, shimmering on the breeze, announcing they are open.
And I wonder. Maybe tonight I'll go.
Or not. I take my latte and walk down the street, away from the flames of quiet business blooming.
