There was something quite golden about the light that peaked out of Desperado’s and onto the street. A welcomeness rang from its warmth, and its subtlety kept this exclusive somehow. Or at least, this is how it seemed to Logan, who was walking home from work, as she stumbled upon the place on one particular evening in late September. The wind was sweeping deep into downtown now, catching rebounds off buildings on the square and rustling all the fallen leaves. Continue reading Top-Shelf Whiskey, an excerpt