detWarren
Elizabeth Warren
I'm just gonna make an introduction to a story that could end up being anything or nothing if not an example.
From the doorway of her coffee house, Elizabeth Warren peered out at the empty cobblestone streets where a light fog lay just near the tops of the trees, and the sun began to peak through to shine light upon the world. The air was cool around her, while a warm gentle breeze pressed against her skin and tossed the ends of her hair. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door frame and brought her coffee to her chest. The air smelled of spring; of flowers freshly bloomed and of moisture in the air. Spring was her favorite season of all.
Elizabeth pushed off the wall and walked to the front of the door before she slowly crouched down—careful not to spill her coffee—to put the door-stopper down in the front to keep it open. As she stood again, she adjusted the 'open' sign on the door to even it out before stepping back to look inside of her shop. It was popular despite its humble reputation.
She had named it 'Café Noir' due to her appreciation for French atmosphere. The inside décor was filled with French inspired antique design with cobblestone walls that reached about waist high and wooden paneling that covered the upper half of the walls. The floors were made of a fine dark wood, with rugs placed under each table. All the lights were dim save the ones in the bar, and there was a large wooden door at the back of the shop with a sign that read ‘Do not enter’ in decorative font that matched the French theme. Through that door there was a staircase leading up to her living space, all less intricately designed. The floors were wooden and walls painted beige with mismatching furniture she had purchased only for comfort.
Exhaling a relaxed sigh, Elizabeth walked into her shop, waiting for what the day would bring.
From the doorway of her coffee house, Elizabeth Warren peered out at the empty cobblestone streets where a light fog lay just near the tops of the trees, and the sun began to peak through to shine light upon the world. The air was cool around her, while a warm gentle breeze pressed against her skin and tossed the ends of her hair. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door frame and brought her coffee to her chest. The air smelled of spring; of flowers freshly bloomed and of moisture in the air. Spring was her favorite season of all.
Elizabeth pushed off the wall and walked to the front of the door before she slowly crouched down—careful not to spill her coffee—to put the door-stopper down in the front to keep it open. As she stood again, she adjusted the 'open' sign on the door to even it out before stepping back to look inside of her shop. It was popular despite its humble reputation.
She had named it 'Café Noir' due to her appreciation for French atmosphere. The inside décor was filled with French inspired antique design with cobblestone walls that reached about waist high and wooden paneling that covered the upper half of the walls. The floors were made of a fine dark wood, with rugs placed under each table. All the lights were dim save the ones in the bar, and there was a large wooden door at the back of the shop with a sign that read ‘Do not enter’ in decorative font that matched the French theme. Through that door there was a staircase leading up to her living space, all less intricately designed. The floors were wooden and walls painted beige with mismatching furniture she had purchased only for comfort.
Exhaling a relaxed sigh, Elizabeth walked into her shop, waiting for what the day would bring.
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