The Coffee Row Chronicles: Momentum, Muscle, and Marquee Lights
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
Gull Lake’s running hot this week. From burgers to gold medals to a century‑old marquee asking for new hands at the wheel, there’s momentum everywhere you look.
The Round Table was already buzzing before the first refill. Word had spread that Gull Lake had punched its ticket to the Final Four in the South West Rink Burger All-Stars, leading the field with 653 votes. Earl—who treated the café like his second office—leaned back in what everyone knew was his “assigned” chair and tapped his mug as if calling a council meeting to order.
“Six hundred and fifty‑three votes,” he announced. “Impressive. But has anyone checked if Kyle’s refreshing the page twice as fast as the rest of us? I’ve seen their rink. They look like the type.”
Edna, the town’s unofficial historian, snapped open her For Posterity notebook. “Earl, voting integrity applies to burgers, too. If we’re going to win, we’ll do it properly—no shortcuts, no shenanigans.”
Hank, who could fix anything with a motor, grunted. “A good burger doesn’t need shenanigans. Just beef, heat, and someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Which,” Earl added, “is why I should be appointed official taste‑test auditor. For the good of the town.”
Mabel, who ran the café with quiet authority, refilled his cup without looking up. “You’d be asleep by the second patty.”
Just then, Rita—the café’s resident optimist and part‑time baker—breezed in with a tray of muffins decorated like tiny burgers, sesame‑seed tops and all. “Final Four Muffins!” she announced. “Because we’re not just voting—we’re manifesting.”
Before Earl could ask if manifesting counted as a conflict of interest, the Postmaster stepped inside, waving his phone. “Did you see this? Levynn Toney took gold in Moose Jaw yesterday. Arm raised, crowd cheering—the whole bit.”
The table shifted instantly. Even Edna closed her notebook.
Mabel set down the coffee pot and smiled. “In a town our size, every kid who steps onto a regional stage carries all of us with them.”
Hank nodded. “Takes grit to win like that. Real grit. Not the kind Earl talks about.”
“I have grit,” Earl protested. “Just… selectively applied.”
Rita clasped her hands. “Levynn didn’t just win for herself. She won for Gull Lake. For every kid who trains in a cold gym and dreams big.”
Edna wrote a single line in her notebook: Levynn Toney—For Posterity.
At that moment, the Library Archivist drifted by, dropping a stack of posters onto the counter. “Lyceum’s looking for new board members,” she said. “A hundred years and still going. Needs people who care.”
Edna snapped her notebook shut. “Funny how every so often, someone manages to turn a regular show into a full‑scale production—heroes, villains, the whole dramatic affair. Most folks, though, just want to buy a ticket and enjoy a quiet night out.”
Rita nodded. “Stories belong on the screen. Not in the comment section.”
Mabel poured another round. “The theatre’s lasted a century because folks step up, not because they shout the loudest.”
Earl scratched his chin. “If they need someone to test the popcorn machine, I’m available—strictly in the public interest.”
Mayor Binder arrived—exactly seven minutes after everyone else—and took in the scene with a quiet smile. “Momentum isn’t just about winning votes or medals,” he said. “It’s about showing up—for our athletes, our rink, and our theater. Heritage tells us who we are. Investment shows where we’re going.”
Hank lifted his mug. “Every brick laid is another step forward.”
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