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The Yours and Mine Cafe was a small place; smashed between two conspicuously taller, white, stucco-walled buildings down the street from Backupsmore University, it still commanded the eyes of everyone as it sat there on Warwick Street, its small bright windows smiling invitingly at those who walked past, offering a sweet, caffeinated beverage to any who desired one.
Its inside was much bigger than its exterior suggested, and it was warm and comfortable and smelled like pastries and coffee. The walls were a dark oak wood, always dusted and polished to a dull shine which reflected the light of the gold-lit sconces that lined the walls and the sparkle of the golden Christmas lights that were strung along the raftered ceiling. Small red tables with beige chairs were scattered throughout the small space, separated down the middle to make an aisle towards the coffee bar at the back of the building. The homebrew was to the left, with two options: caffeinated or decaffeinated. Little elegant bowls held the sugar, cream, and milk.
At the bar stood the barista--sometimes a man named Seth, probably in his early thirties, sometimes a woman named Annabelle, probably in her late twenties, and sometimes a southern-accented college student named Fiddleford, who was probably about nineteen or twenty. As the reviews went, all the baristas were wonderfully friendly and helpful to each customer who entered the tiny cafe and bakery.
Nearly everybody in the area had been to “the Y and M” at least once and came away with only positive words to say. It was one of the only highlights of the drab little town.
And it was in this same cafe that the infamous couple, the couple from which many stories stemmed, first met.