There's some current top 40 music going on here. The place is rather dirty and divey, cheap looking. The few tall wooden chairs that line the bar have plush animal skin-patterned seats. There is a lot of trash on the floor, cigarette butts and sugar cube wrappers, including my own sugar cube wrapper which blew off my square smoke-patterned light-brown table when I huffed at some point. The cup and saucer are completely white, the outside of the cup, at least (well, except for a tiny trace of coffee around the rim).

I think Boyz 2 Men is playing now; I heard the DJ mention their name just before this infernal harmonizing started. The artificially red-haired woman who served me my coffee has put on her coat and left; her replacement is male and not nearly as attractive. An old woman smoking a cigarette with white poodle hair is sitting a little ways away from me. She has a Perrier in front of her and is just staring out the window, observing all the activity outside: pedestrians, cars zooming about, and not much else other than the chronic Obligatory Large Dog Trotting By. There's a Chez Papa -- my favorite restaurant -- across the street, but the smell of potatoes that normally surrounds it is not appreciable from this distance. My chair is wooden, but regrettably there is no plush animal skin-patterned cushion on the seat.