You don't know why you are following him. Hell, you don't even know why you are still here. I mean honestly this place is starting to give you the creeps. At least if you are a rational human being. If you are irrational, then you are quite useful in geometry and your best friends with the square root of 2. You digress again. Math isn't important right now. What is important is that you are following a total stranger to a door.

Glancing down at your cup of coffee in your hands which you aren't 100% sure you actually picked up, you examine the contents. Then again maybe its not coffee, maybe its a hot beverage you enjoy. The contents of the cup really are irrelevant, what is relevant is that you have a damn cup in your hand you swear you didn't pick up. Or did you? Then again is that even a relevant question. Maybe the relevant question is why you just took a step forward again, moving in tandem with a guy who can only be described as insane.

The Stairs level out into the top floor and you glance about. The floor creaks with each movement of The Tenant who glances back to you, beckoning you with a simple hand gesture and a wide eye and wild grin. Yup, he is without a doubt crazy. Stepping towards a simple aged wood door at the back of the room, the Tenant Steps aside for you to soak in the ambience. Or lack there off. It really is just a ragged door.

"I give you the door of infinite possibilities. Or my room as I like to call it." You suddenly feel extremely dejected. Part of you was praying to whatever God, gods or lack of gods you worship that you could infinite possibilities...is that a word...a way out of this place.

Opening the door you smell the distinct, pleasant scent of a well cleaned and polished space. Moving forward, you glance in through the door. Sure enough, the space does not fit the surrounding area at all. Extremely neat with a cluster of papers similar to that the Tenant dragged down earlier. Just ahead of you is the bathroom, the door slightly ajar. To the left, the closet, door also slightly adjar. What do they call it ajar? As you step in you move to the right with the tenant. now facing down the room, there is a glass desk with computer to your left. A dresser to your right, and a bed and bookcases to the right and left, respectively, at the far end of the room. The entire space smells like someone had gone through here with a bottle of refreeze just moments before and as you sniff the air, you get the still odd smell of chemically infused faux rain. Its like someone mixed spring with a chemical accident and despite being slightly perturbed by the latter’s presence, you accept the scent as pleasant odor and move past that observation.

"Why the Hell am I here?" You mutter grudgingly, still remembering your case of items downstairs in the shop.

"The Room or the Coffee Shop?" The Tenant responds, suddenly next to you.

"Both?" You mutter glancing at him, oddly enough, not bothered by his prescience.

"I'd imagine you are in the Room because you are interested in what I do. Or at least what the hell it is I do. As for the Coffee shop? No one knows why we come here but we know its for a reason. Maybe we are all just drawn, on a cosmic scale, to something that is of the beaten path. Maybe we all seek something that isn't exactly what people call normal because we aren't exactly what people call normal. Maybe that’s the most important reason the Coffee shop exists. Not for the coffee but for the company, the combination of ideas into a vast air of discussion that helps answer questions we could never answer alone. Or maybe it’s just a refuge from the pains of the real world. Then again, does it matter? What matters is you are here. I am here. And life goes on. Its just a stop in the big journey we call life and someday we may leave, or choose to make this the last stop."

You nod taking in what he says before glancing at him once more. "Hey, why do you call it the Room of Infinite Possibilities?"

As you wait for him to answer, and turn back to examine the room again, you are suddenly in a green field, the sun on your face. You turn around to see the door to the coffee shop still standing ajar, the dark hallway and must smell leaking in and mixing with the fresh scent of grass and flowers.

"Because." The Tenant says as you glance to him, his eyes fixed on the scene. "Here is where dreams come to life. Where we can break from reality and paint whatever world we want. In reality any room can serve the same purpose. What matter's isn't finding the right room. What matter's is finding the desire to make that room into this, and that can only come by forgetting how old you are and going back to when you were a child. Because as we age we sometimes forget what it was like to dream and a room becomes just a room, but as a child, when we used imagination to paint a world around us, a room was anything and the world our canvas and the only limitation to what we could create was the limits of our own desire...Beautiful isn't it?"

"There is more I Promise." The tenant says as he shuffles through his large pages. Pulling out three major pieces. His eyes dart across the pages as if he is half crazed. Then again, his curled hair seems to be getting tighter and tighter locks and his eyes grow increasingly wide, so perhaps he is half crazed, even full crazed. You aren't quite sure.

As he settles the three pages onto the table he looks at you again wantingly, as if a child with a preschool finger painting that he wished to be enthroned upon the glorious white thing that produced food. You know it as a fridge but to that poor little kid it might as well be the national art gallery. You digress. You glance at the pages quirking an eyebrow as you glance over them.







The Tenant doesn't move and you aren't quite sure if he is breathing anymore either. He has on this half defeated face that you are sure is attributed to your confused look and and still quiet demeanor. Suddenly he sighs, probably releasing the breath he was holding as he leans back patiently against the counter.

"No please, take your time, its not like my dreams are on the line or anything..."

The Tenant came walking down the stairs once again. Moments earlier he had vanished to gather this thing he had called perception. Now, he returned with some rolls of paper tucked under his arm and an odd twinkle in his eye. You aren't quite sure if it is pure insanity or true inspiration, though the two often blur together. Glancing to the shopkeeper who has his armed defiantly crossed over his chest, you notice the man has already made up his mind concerning the impending reveal.

The Tenant quickly places the drawings on the table and rolls them out speaking as he does.

"Now these are only preliminary. Don't judge to harshly." He says as he watches the shopkeeper inspect the drawing.



The shopkeeper inspects it for a moment, scratching his chin. The air in the room goes dark as the man seems to suck all attention to him like some world renowned taste-tester sampling a young chef's soup. Candles on the mantle flicker as if touched by a phantom wind and the lights dim just a tad. The eyes of the Tenant grow bright, hungrily waiting for any form of a response.

"Its crap." He says finally as he turns back to cleaning. The Tenant sighs grudgingly and slumps back into the chair. Shaking his head he begins to roll up the drawing before he glances towards you, letting it re-unfurl.

"What do you think? Got any bashing for me as well?..."

No one quite knows who he is. Or where he came from, but as the Tenant above the Coffee Shop came tumbling down the stairs, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a casual grey t-shirt that read "navy" in black letters across the front. None of the other coffee house goers glance up. His presence, to them, is as expected as the sun rising each morning or the exhale that follows the inhale of the frigid air outside. He tiredly crosses the room before he stumbles, yet again, up to the bar and settles in.

"What are you having Josh?" The Coffee House shopkeeper's voice is sudden and almost as unexpected as the Tenant's arrival. The man, has appeared from behind the counter without beckoning and from exactly where, you can't quite tell. He is a husky fellow with no rim glasses and a hearty laugh, or so you would imagine as the man had never laughed.

"The usual Nick. Black, cream, and a ton of sugar." The Tenant, or Josh as he seems to be called, speaks. His voice is deep but not as overbearing and sudden as the shopkeeper and he runs his hand through a mat of messy blonde hair. Sighing heavily, he glances towards you, examining you like a house keeper might a new neighbor but says nothing.

"Any luck breaking out of that artist block?" The shopkeeper breaks into yours and the Tenant's examinations and he glances back to the now steaming cup of coffee.

"That I have. You should see it. Perception is what I call it. Its a dream." He says, leaning back as he sips at his coffee.

"Dreams, is that all you have up there? Fanciful dreams?" The shopkeeper says shaking his head.

"Let me go run and get it, you'll see. Besides we live at the corner of a circle...everything here is a dream..."

So what brought you here?

A lot of people ask themselves as the drag their way long they myriad of streets into what is the Dark Corner of that which should have no corners. We here at the Never Ending Coffee Shop (that means we don't close, you still pay by the cup, its the only way we can compete with Starbucks) offer a dim chance for hope to you weary and wandering travelers. We open the doors for you (from 6am - 11 pm except for major holidays), give you a comfortable place to sit (drink purchase required first), and a friendly atmosphere (unless I've had a bad day, which is often).

The real purpose of the Coffee shop is to host my art, the music I enjoy, and really for me to babble on about my day while you try to figure out how to get out of this mess of a wrong turn you've gotten yourself into. However, as the rain pours down outside (it always rains here...no really...always) you start to settle into that big leather chair with that hot cup of 7-11 grade coffee and start to think, perhaps this isn't so bad.

That's when we have you, and no matter what you do now, you are a tenant of the Corner...Welcome.