The clean, crisp lines and blond wood baked with semi-fake grain contrasts with the loud, clunky music.
A pretty-ish girl at the register has issues, but her breasts suggest otherwise, along with a shy, knowing smile. The green in the backshop, Japenese-style courtyard glows throughout the shotgun space. The crew moves hectic as closing time marches closer. Another barista, cute-ish has a cross tattooed above her left elbow and bangs that hang delicately in her face. The slightest hint of sex in her look, she wears a handwritten paper sign on that gentle part of the chest below the clavicle and above the breast that reads “I have no voice, but I am listening. Have a great day.” Her face and shy smile suggest that the voicelessness is a decision.
There’s a parklet outside designed as a sawed-in-half schooner.
It’s sharp in SF, what sets it apart.