"My" Street

I live in the basement of a house, so the view outside my window is the backyard. I didn’t feel inclined to sit outside on the sidewalk, in the cold, to describe the street I live on. So I decided to head to a warm coffee shop and describe the view outside their window.

The street itself is worn. Two parallel lines show where countless cars have left their impression. Paint lines denoting crosswalks are barely visible. Every sidewalk has chunks missing from the edges, most likely from careless drivers.

Four posts define each corner. The two on the south side are old, made of wood. They bear hundreds of staples from past fliers posted. Many I am sure, didn’t get read. The two on the north are new, made of metal. Nothing adorns them. Was this choice of material intentional?

The southeast corner has a Hollywood video, where I am sure fewer and fewer people frequent because of the extremely convenient process called “downloading”.
On the southwest corner stands a chiropractic clinic. Every window is decorated with a plant box. Possibly the receptionist spent much time carefully watering each flower. Now, each flower has turned brown and brittle. The only one that survives is the biggest and ugliest one.

On the northeast side is the coffee shop I am in. And yes, it is a Starbucks. I know many don’t like this particular coffee chain, but I am not afraid to admit I am a sucker for the burnt coffee masked with milk and chocolate. Inside, blenders blare and crooners croon from the speakers.

Some come alone, like me, in order to get homework done, where distractions better known as a television and food are far away. Some sit in groups to finally get together and catch up on each other’s lives. One group consists of two women sitting quietly, listening to a man who has not stopped monopolizing the conversation for forty-five minutes. I can’t quite make out what they are “discussing”, but it must be very important for the man…

Also, one little girl, about one year old sits with two women. Both adults swoon over her every need, but she could not care less. She is more concerned with the cookie in front of her.

Lastly, the northwest building and most interesting to me, merely because of its history. The corner of the building is proudly stamped with a plaque stating that this is a historical site, circa 1912. The bricks are more worn than the ones on the other buildings. The banners are visibly faded and dirty. Through the window sits rows of “Hello Kitty” bobble head dolls. Which comes as a surprise to me because the rest of the shop holds Asian antiques. Did bobble heads exist in the 1800s?