Adventures are the best kind of stories. Without them life just sits there. There was a coffeeshop.

There was always a radical tabby who walked along the sidewalk on the street the shop was on. The waft there was the kind of waft you can waft into your nose and smell the smell of not just good coffee but great.

The sidewalks were fragments of an old sidewalk, and there were pieces of brick road on the places cars pulled in. The shop was kind of downtrodden in a hipster looking way, but I guess it was modern and some of the older folk who fancied themselves ‘artistic’ liked that too.

There were two trees near the shop. One was a ginourmous oak tree. Arms out every direction, you know the oak tree type that kids will climb onto and be the king of the world. Another was a Japanese cherry blossom tree. It’d turn bright cotton candy colored pink in the right months.

It was a rainy day when this took place. I mean that stuff was coming down like someone up there had a massive bucket and was pouring it all out. Just like that ‘cause it didn’t last long at all. Before long the sun was coming out. So it wasn’t all rainy or sunny. It just was a day.

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