Northern_Lights_2014

Opal Street, 5th Avenue By Caitline Solsaa The snow had been falling, not too long ago. The slating, grey sky was hiding the early morning sun, and the residents were beginning to busy about the streets. Some cars passed by, smoke emitting from them and the smell of gasoline circulated through the air. Taxis were being stopped by the hollering men and wom- en in suits and thick coats, clicking their heels. And checking their cell phones and watches, their routinely, indefatigable personas began to take effect. On some streets, children played and twirled themselves around thin trees bordering the sidewalks. On the trees, there dangled ornaments and lights wrapped around them. Even across buildings, ornaments were hung from the wires. They lit up and flashed, illuminating at night. But in the day, they weren’t too looked upon. Except by the children, whose eyes lit up at their dazzling effects and drew on huge smiles as they con- tinued with their parents or other siblings hurrying onto their busy schedules. Close to the corner of Opal Street, 5 th Avenue, there was a coffee shop entitled, “Down-Home Den.” The small, chocolate brown structure was hovered over by the taller, mahogany and grey brick buildings. On top of the displayed sign with a large painted cup of coffee, garner was fringed in dark gold and soft colored silvers. The door was to its left and the windows encompassed all to the right, framing with dark evergreen trimming. The smell of hazelnut espressos and mint caramel lattes emitted when customers opened and closed the door. There were so many customers. Every day, it was always busy. Across the bustling shop, a man was sitting on a street bench, sipping into his full cup of coffee. A girl, inside of the Down-Home Den, took notice of this man. She looked up at her mother for a re- sponse. But she was far too busy. She was chatting away with her friends as they all sat at a tall round table. Each filled their cups with loads of crème and sugar and kept all the wrappings in the middle. The girl’s round, sea green eyes kept looking up at her mother and began to tug at her coat. “Mom, there’s a man,” she turned to look at the man again, then back at her. But her mother paid no mind, as she kept her persistency. At times, her mother didn’t look down, but muttered, “Honey, not right now, I’m talking to my friends.” The girl furrowed her blonde brows and puckered her lips on her freckled, round face. ‘I only want to know why there is a man out in the cold,’ she thought. She looked around. The interior was patterned of gold and orange wallpaper. Most all the wooden tables were arranged in the center, like the ones her and her mother were sitting in. With dark evergreen paddings, the lower booths bordered the walls, making extra room by the front counter. Other customers were around. Ones were laughing and talking about their dreams and troubles, while others talked about what was on the news. The smell of coffee was all around. The aroma spread to every inch and corner of the shop. A smile beamed on her face and sparked an idea. She began to tug on her mother’s coat again, this time to ask money for a cookie. Her mother heard her and willingly gave her a dollar, asking her not to bother 17