Quang D.
Yelp
The parking lot is a quiet fist, clenched too tightly, and still, the cars find a way to squeeze in--mine among them, breathless. It's Monday afternoon, yet Yeem's hums like a small heart, full but never overwhelming, its energy not the caffeinated kind, but a steady pulse: warm hands on counters, quiet laughter between pours. The baristas--young, alert, precise--move like people who care.
The space itself is tiny, a pocket universe, yet it doesn't apologize for its size. Here, even smallness holds its own authority, intimate and certain. You could miss it if you blinked, but you'd regret it: the Vienna Latte alone makes the stop worthwhile. It's a soft cloud layered over a darker sky. Cream, heavier than air, settles into espresso, its sweetness lifted but not drowned. Almond milk makes it sharper, the coffee's boldness peeking through--this drink knows what it is. The caffeine does its job, too, jolting me awake but gently, like a lover brushing the hair off your forehead. I sit in my car after, hands on the wheel, alert and present in a way that feels like a gift.
There's strength here--not just in the coffee but in the quiet resolve of the place itself. A small café in a small lot, unafraid to demand your attention. Yeem's doesn't need to be big to feel full, doesn't need a crowd to feel alive.
I'll return--again and again, whenever I want to be reminded that small things, done well, are enough.