This place was unusually homey for a Starbucks, as there was this fall sunlight dropping in through the musty front window, where she was perched on their cushioned bench along the wall, legs crossed, elbows on her lap. She was picking at her scone with one hand and her hair was deep and dark, backlit by orange yellow sunbeams as it fell around her shoulder. She was gazing lazily at the little boy a few feet away who was crawling on his father, a strong man clad in army camos.