George Baker

noticed the ding only after the door had closed behind him. That was an anomoly, he thought. Most of these store door bells dinged upon opening. He turned back to look up at the bell that was stuck onto the side of the door rather than hanging from it. It was a model he hadn't seen before. George thought he was already going to like this cafe before he even saw what the coffee looked like.

Most businesses didn't have these old school door bells. Most didn't have time to bother with such details. He had been to enough cafes now that he could tell a lot based on details the average customer might consider spurious. This door bell being an example. He turned away to finally enter the

cafe

, shifting his attention away from the bell. Other details immediately popped out at him. The baristas were clean looking and paid attention to their craft instead of being on their phones. How the customers were dressed. The ceramic mugs that came ontop of saucers. The volume of the music. And most importantly how the tables and chairs were arranged.

The arrangement of the furniture allowed guests to feel like they had a soft privacy while at the same time feel like they were all sharing the same space. Most cafes these days felt more like isolated pods divied up between strangers who came separately, passed time separately, and then left separately still as strangers. George preferred the type of cafes where you could run into a stranger, have a chat, and eventually end up becoming buddies. Maybe he was biased becasoe of the one summer he had studied abroad in

Europe

. He had stopped trying to convince his fellow 

Americans

that more such styled cafes were needed, but he himself still appreciated stumbling into such places.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the barista said. George stepped up to place his order. He knew his order already, but didn't know yet where he would sit. He was filled with excitement.