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I take your hand, I feel your breath, I close my eyes
[Where would you go not to be found?
It's more than a fair question in this day and age, and sparks more than a single interesting reply to chew over. Yet those who had not veered towards the philosophical had their more practical retorts; this had been, after all, a question posted on a forum for locals rather than thrown out to the internet at large. For his efforts, Rip receives all manner of recommendations, from antique bookstores to hidden-away restaurants, to cafes described as "quietly cozy" and "charming."
He stands in front of one of these proclaimed promised lands, tucked neatly into the bottom floor of a building that had seen its share of decades, far removed from the more bustling districts where Rip would spend the majority of his time. Regardless, the brick remained by and large in tack, betraying care one might not recognize had indeed been taken regardless of the aged facade. Indeed, that sentiment extends inward, an atmosphere entirely unto itself when Rip takes his first step past the threshold.
The leather duster he wears over a simple business suit no doubt would grow too warm quickly, the cafe kept heated to fight against the fall chill outside. Deep blacks and warm browns echo that invitation even before the first barista greets him from behind the counter, putting on airs that feel more genuine than not.
Of all things, that touch of sincerity impresses Rip the most.
It's why he offers a faint grin of his own when he returns that cheery hello, then takes the time to ask what the young woman might recommend. Once he settles on a dark roasted number flavored with hazelnut, Rip steps to the side once he's finished to wait. In the meantime, with a glance once more cast about the space, he reaches into the leather satchel at his side to produce a hardback copy of The Green Mile--another recommendation from another forum, offered to another assumed name. He's not started it just yet, but has a touch of time to spare this afternoon. Fortunate and rare, Rip hopes that this foray into the unknown would prove satisfactory--if only for the separation from his normality that he's taken such care to create.]
It's more than a fair question in this day and age, and sparks more than a single interesting reply to chew over. Yet those who had not veered towards the philosophical had their more practical retorts; this had been, after all, a question posted on a forum for locals rather than thrown out to the internet at large. For his efforts, Rip receives all manner of recommendations, from antique bookstores to hidden-away restaurants, to cafes described as "quietly cozy" and "charming."
He stands in front of one of these proclaimed promised lands, tucked neatly into the bottom floor of a building that had seen its share of decades, far removed from the more bustling districts where Rip would spend the majority of his time. Regardless, the brick remained by and large in tack, betraying care one might not recognize had indeed been taken regardless of the aged facade. Indeed, that sentiment extends inward, an atmosphere entirely unto itself when Rip takes his first step past the threshold.
The leather duster he wears over a simple business suit no doubt would grow too warm quickly, the cafe kept heated to fight against the fall chill outside. Deep blacks and warm browns echo that invitation even before the first barista greets him from behind the counter, putting on airs that feel more genuine than not.
Of all things, that touch of sincerity impresses Rip the most.
It's why he offers a faint grin of his own when he returns that cheery hello, then takes the time to ask what the young woman might recommend. Once he settles on a dark roasted number flavored with hazelnut, Rip steps to the side once he's finished to wait. In the meantime, with a glance once more cast about the space, he reaches into the leather satchel at his side to produce a hardback copy of The Green Mile--another recommendation from another forum, offered to another assumed name. He's not started it just yet, but has a touch of time to spare this afternoon. Fortunate and rare, Rip hopes that this foray into the unknown would prove satisfactory--if only for the separation from his normality that he's taken such care to create.]