Family Practice
“The restaurant opened at 6:30 a.m., but that was mostly for the early-rising coffee drinkers. The breakfast crowd on Saturday usually didn’t start showing up until a little later in the morning.
She walked up the steps, breathing deeply of the clean, crisp air, letting it clear her head of the last lingering cobwebs of fatigue from the night before.
The storm had taken its toll on the petunias in the flower beds lining the steps—their heads were bowed, their petals muddied. The hostas were slightly bedraggled, too, with raindrops still clinging to their broad green leaves. She noticed the plants were already done flowering, a sure sign fall was just around the corner. Labor Day was less than ten days away. Summer was coming to an end.
She walked into the lobby, cool and shadow filled, and glanced into the taproom. It was silent and deserted, clean-swept and tidy, the chairs tucked neatly under the tables, the bar stools lined with military precision along the bar.
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