When you first push open that crooked wooden door, the sunlight is just right on the honey jars behind the counter, and the air is sweet with the scent of baking muffins. Outside, the clouds drift by at their own unhurried pace; inside, there are corners piled high with soft cushions. All you want is to lie down somewhere and do absolutely nothing—but a brown bear wearing an apron is waving at you, as if she has known you all along.