Our coffee shop is small - maybe 500 square feet - with all the honest quirks that come with an old building that's lived a real life: a creak here, a lean there, walls that have heard things. Our front door almost never works.

But on any given morning, you'll find someone hunched over a laptop in the corner, deep in whatever world they're building, and right beside them, someone sitting down to a hot breakfast they couldn't have afforded otherwise. There are dogs, there are laughs, there are children playing in our yard, and of course, there is Neil, our favorite Vietnam War vet that comes everyday right at 8am.

Somewhere between the hum of the espresso machine and the low murmur of strangers becoming neighbors, the place starts to feel less like a coffee shop and more like something you'd stumble into in a movie - the kind of scene that makes you pause and think, "this is what a community actually looks like."

One thing we here over and over again is "this place is magical." And honestly, we didn't do anything - it's the volunteer baristas, the customers, and our Portland, OR family that make it magical.

We just opened the door and let people in.

This is us. Welcome to Heretic.