Small local businesses lined the street in this revitalized area of downtown. A pub that specialized in craft brewed beers, an art supply store with an upstairs gallery, a bookstore that catered to local up and coming authors, a small coffee roaster and homemade dessert shop, among others. Everything in the area was about hands on, handmade, locally created. It wasn’t unique because it was happening all over the country, but it was special. It showed determination and individuality, two things Brax embraced. The deli, Jamie and Friends, where Brax had called in an order, made the best brisket sandwich he’d ever tasted. They’d perfected it in Jamie’s father’s backyard last summer and it was indeed, perfect. Just thinking about it made his stomach grumble in protest of how long it was since he’d eaten last. Breakfast. A strawberry pastry and a Red Bull. Not exactly a meal fit for a king. He rounded the corner, wrapped his hand around the door handle, and that’s when he saw her reflection in the glass.
