The soft apricots and teals of the café was beautiful in her eyes     No one else thought so, but she did.   Even though the paint peeled,   Gum was stuck underneath almost every table, And the milkshake machines hardly ever worked,   The Salty Hook was built from the ground up by the calloused hands of her grandfather in the prime of his youth—and it saddened her to know that Foreclosure lingered in its future.  

A crowd of noisy kids entered the café,   Sun-tanned faces, red lipsticks, sandy hair, and strong jawlines    The strong smell of Axe cologne and frying onions hung in the air like dense fog, and despite them being “The Ruckers” everyone warned her about, they seemed to fit in, all the noise and laughter reminding her of her own wonderful childhood. 

Because the Salty Hook wasn’t just for noble, classy lads in suits or elegant gals in sparkling dresses, this café was meant for everyone—especially for the ones like “The Ruckers.”