Safe and Sane

Veterans Day meant a holiday, but not for the cafe. It wasn't quite just an excuse for the cafe owner to find a new way to decorate, but there was a large flag pinned up behind the counter, and poppies were propped in small vases on each table.

The weather had taken a sudden turn for the better, almost spring-warm, and the last rays of afternoon sun were still finding the cafe windows as the first of the munch attendees began to arrive.

The club had been transformed. The main room was no longer recognizable as a lounge; it had been made over with mood lighting and subtle decorations. On one end there was a huge buffet, the bar was open and tended. There was even room for dancing on a small wooden floor that had been laid down on the opposite end of the room. Scattered about were bowls of candy of all kinds.

One of the smaller lounges hosted traditional party games -- bobbing for apples, donuts on a string, even a table set up for carving small gourds and pumpkins. A few of the private play rooms on the main level had also been opened, set up for groups or exhibitionism, but as in previous year that wasn't the focus of the night. And, in case anyone had forgotten a costume or hadn't been able to find one, the smallest public lounge was being used as sort of a large wardrobe.

A large poster in the hallway announced the categories for the costume contest: scariest, funniest, the most creative, best couple or group, and -- of course -- the sexiest.

The weather had been up and down -- freezing cold, not bad, and, if the forecasters were correct, outright pleasant for the rest of the week. The crew at the coffee shop had given up trying to predict what was going to sell and had decided to just offer everything up. Hot, spiced, cold, chocolate. If you wanted it, you could have it.

Another Wednesday, another munch night. Evenings were beginning to draw in, with fall nipping at the air, temperatures beginning to drop as soon as the sun had sunk below the horizon. The cafe had responded with a range of spiced coffees, hot soup, and cookies and muffins still warm from the oven.

And, of course, the infamous chili spiced hot chocolate.

At last. The final element of Beth's venture was ready to open, the gallery ready to her satisfaction and Jason's, and displaying (after a certain amount of discussion) a selection of pieces created by each of the artists who would later be holding their own show in the gallery.

The cafe was brightly lit against the dull weather outside, and the store was still open downstairs, but the focus for today was on the gallery, the seating area at one end, and the works on display (and sale) there.

Claire had spent the week learning her apartment, her new post and Boulder in general. By Monday she was convinced she'd never remember that the switch to the kitchen light was on the left wall, that she had to turn right then left to get to her office or that she'd ever find a non-chain cafe that made a decent cinnamon latte macchiato.

"Right, well, let's try this one then, shall we?" she said to no one in particular as she pushed open the door to the cafe where the club held munches on Wednesdays. She fiddled with her messenger bag as she studied the board, not noticing that the line had moved up.