Chapter Five
The small French Cafe was tucked away in a part of town Dana rarely went. Amid small marginal businesses and aging apartments, the soft glow from the tiny storefront windows made it look decidedly warm next to the dreariness outside. A brisk night air with traces of snow tickling the face, it was a treat to let the restaurant's lovely atmosphere cure the chill as soon as the pair stepped inside the inviting atmosphere. The cafe was bustling in a quiet way, as the lone waiter made his way swiftly from table to table, serving drinks and meals that steamed with robust fragrance. In the background, strains of mellow jazz played on an old victrola in the corner by the door, the scratching sound something to draw up memories of music before the days of tapes and CDs and sophisticat
