Photo by Padurariu Alexandru
It was impossible, the color, but it was done. They came in and imposed their own signature right away, no questions asked. The only place on two blocks that stuck out. Every other house facade was a dingy whitewash or worn rusty brick. The street held a tinge of neglected gentility; its uniformity appealed to Winnie and her neighbors.
Of course they were artists, that’s what Simon told her and he should know as the owner and chief barista at Foglifter Coffee Bar. People stopped by on the way to city center, caught up with each other while in line, then again on the way home to savor the last caffeine of the day. She enjoyed it more when Simon had a free moment.
“Who?” Winnie asked. “Why?”
“I don’t know, they seem to be well known in some circles, mainly Marty’s.” He finished up an…
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