Winter was giving way to spring. New leaves were appearing on the trees and green grass sprouted up, pushing out the hay like yellow remains from last year. It was a time of new beginings. Even Mute, as oblivious to his surroundings as he was, would have his own fresh start.
As he strolled down the brick sidewalk, he passed wooden pillars on his left; they held up the overhanging porches of the buildings on his right. Downtown Siloam Springs had kept most of its old buildings. Mute got vague feelings of safety and comfort here, nearly closed in on three sides by the storefronts, overhang, and frequent pillars.
The last building of the block had no overhang. Mute stopped at the door and peered into Pour Jon's, a rather unique coffee shop. The bell above the door rang merrily in greeting as he stepped inside and proceeded to look around. The walls were made of cement painted a cream color, not quite white but not that yellow. Patches of brick showed through here and