The world seemed grim to Daniel Jones as he sat looking out of the small window of his somewhat dingy room, high up on the Seventeenth floor of the old the county jail house located on the outskirts of town.  Most days the skies were gray and the town filled with smoke from the over abundance of cars cruising the streets, but on others days, the skies would be as clear as a fresh water stream.

With many long days and countless hours to think, he considered himself lucky to be able to look out at a town that once embraced him. Even though he was angry and bitter, he could not come to the realization that he of all people was sitting in such a horrid place.

His room was small with light grey walls and pictures of his family hanging on them. His bed was nothing like the nice soft bed he had back in his countryside two story house that was once full of life and memories of his many accomplishments. This bed was like sleeping on the floor. The one good think he was thankful for was, he did not have a cell mate.

Daniel grew up the lavish town called Blackberry, a town with two sides.  Nestled in the crest of the beautiful Chowpin Mountains, the town was fast pace and full of life. You could always find multiple things happening, from corporate businesses to its seedy night life. This was a major attraction to Daniel.                                                                                                                                          

Many people often vacationed there to enjoy the beautiful sites of the mountains that outlined city.   By day, the town was filled with many people on their way to work and out-of-towners thirsting to see the sights.

There was always much to do in this town of mystery. You could always see wall to wall people everywhere, no matter the time of day.  Once the night fall came, there was a different set of people lining the streets, from the hookers on the corner to vacationers curious about the town’s night life, and the man on the street making his hustle. Dinettes would constantly be filled with people enjoying coffee and conversation.                                                                                                                                      

One of the favorite places people hung out at was Mr. Jacobs' coffee House.  There you could find out anything about the town and its people.  A shop owner of forty some odd years, Mr. Jacobs was a good storyteller so he thought.  He would always greet his customers with what he thought was his most impressive line, “Welcome to Mr. Jacobs' coffee house, the place where you can find the best coffee, good conversation, and me, the bean of the berry.” People just smiled at him and thought to themselves “What the hell is he talking about?”  This place was a joy to be at and a great place to spend the day.