A quiet jazz melody broke through the conversations that intertwined and became one loud, overbearing mumble of a noise that encased the interior of the coffee shop like a humid summer heat. The barista behind the counter, feeling a certain groove welling up inside of him, turned the knob for the volume on the sound system ever so slightly to the point where the buzzing noise was slightly inconspicuous in comparison. Only one patron seemed to notice the balance of sound suddenly shift and she lifted her head for a moment from the book that had kept her encapsulated for the past hour and forty three minutes.

It was then when that Ruby realized that it was not in fact jazz, but most definitely reggae. She momentarily let a small look of distaste distort her otherwise emotionless features. She reached for the green ceramic mug full of coffee that she had ordered but soon abandoned after its arrival.