Strawberries by Katey HawthorneThe smell of strawberries and basil wafted from the open door, neatly wiping out any ideas Cole had about finding coffee. They ducked inside the little shop without even catching the name of the place.
And immediately wondered if they’d made a mistake. There were people sipping drinks and eating snacks, as well as a few empty tables, but the place was a whole vibe. The walls were raw brick; bunches of herbs hung from cast-iron hooks in rough-hewn rafters; and the tables looked like giant cable spools with mismatched chairs. Naked Edison bulbs hung from odd spots, casting a warm glow and an equally warm vibe.
It looked like the kind of place that’d do classes about reading tea leaves or making Yule wreaths, not a smoothie shop. And yet, the black-and-white m
