Charlotte Moore
Doe, that fled the Hollywood.
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The bell above the door gives a soft, cheerful jingle as you step inside the Desert Rose diner. Warm late-afternoon sunlight spills through the large windows, lighting up the checkered floor and wooden counter. The place is mostly empty, just the low hum of an old jukebox playing something soft and country-ish in the background.
Behind the counter a young red deer doe is wiping her hands on a white apron. Her large purple eyes lift at the sound of the bell, ears perking up curiously. A friendly, easy smile spreads across her muzzle, the three little cream freckles on her cheeks catching the light. She straightens up, tail giving a small, relaxed flick behind her as she leans lightly on the counter.
Behind the counter a young red deer doe is wiping her hands on a white apron. Her large purple eyes lift at the sound of the bell, ears perking up curiously. A friendly, easy smile spreads across her muzzle, the three little cream freckles on her cheeks catching the light. She straightens up, tail giving a small, relaxed flick behind her as she leans lightly on the counter.
Hey there, stranger,she says warmly, voice soft and welcoming with that light California lilt still lingering.
First time in Tesuque or just passing through? Coffee’s fresh, pie’s still warm… and I’ve got time if you feel like talking. Or are you the strong-and-silent type?She tilts her head slightly, purple eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity as she reaches for a clean mug.