Call It Ishmael's

In the coming scene we will find ourselves in Ishmael's. It's a little coffee shop on Main street. Only a few blocks from the high school, it's a popular after school hang out. You might be wondering about a place called Ishmael's well, you see, it came out of a love of literature and coffee. Bohemia is the type of town that would (and has) continually fight big chain stores coming into town. That's all well and good for the small shop owners, but what about the folks who wanted a better cup of coffee than what was available at Mal's Diner? Well, a few years back now, when one of Bohemia's own, Tracy Presperoa, came back to town she decided to open up a coffee shop, similar to the one you'll find on every corner of any other town in California. In homage to the great work of literature from which that other coffee shop got its name, and being a lover of literature herself, Tracy named her place: Ishamael's.

Ishmael's has that familiar but new and exotic feel. Always smelling like a cup of coffee laced with comfort, happiness, and adventure, Ishmael's had the power to draw even the anti-coffee people from two blocks away. And once you stepped through those doors, you never wanted to leave again. The walls were painted in dark hues of burgundy and blue, the floor could have been seen as simple and concrete, if you could ever peel your eyes away from the intricately detailed rugs the were strewn about. None of the chairs were uncomfortable and most were the well-worn sort that, if they were feeling particularly meddlesome, could eat you up and never let you go. Those darkly painted walls were covered with a collection of paintings and photography, most of which had been crafted by Tracy herself of people and places, things and ideas, both real and fantastic. From the way she talked about them though, you'd have a hard time knowing whether or not she did, indeed, meet some of the more fantastic looking, places, people, ideas and things in her travels (she swears each story the art tells is true). In one corner of this marvelous place was a wall covered with books, not for sale. No, they were Tracy's personal library; there for others to enjoy while they were around. Above all else, there always seemed to be a bit of what one could only call magic hanging about.