This is a two coffee shop town, not counting the Starbucks counter in the grocery store. There actually might be a third one, but no one seems to know for sure and from the one thing I remember someone saying, it doubles as an old ladies stationary shop. So there are two, in this town. B. and H. We go to B.
I tell my sister I think there are two things that make this place better than H. 1) At H. the outdoor seating is out in passing-by public on the street corner, while at B. it’s in the back behind the taxi dispatch center and the bar. 2) B. doesn’t take itself too seriously.
My sister looks at me, amused but incredulous. “There are lots of reasons the B. is better,” she disagrees with me.
And then we’re going there the other night and our little brother mentions that H. now has ice cream. “I don’t care,” she says. “We go to the B.,” she says, like it’s a question of character.