Barista

It was not just a cup of espresso, indeed it never is. I took an immediate liking of him, with his warm inviting smile and friendly green eyes. Of course, only a barista welcoming a new customer to the tiny coffeehouse in which he works.

The espresso was irresistible, just the right amount and not too bitter or "burned". I went again for some take-away cups. I soon got tired of spilling it all over my clothes and smelling weird, so I though of having it there, with him.

I must have acted weird, he must have been intimidated or embarrassed, as I sat there looking directly at him waiting to ask him for the bill. He did not look up though he knew I was looking, but I thought I saw him glancing at me from the reflection of the glass. What is it? Is it the absolute joy of sipping espresso? Is it his welcoming manner? Is it his eyes, strong arms and huge smile? What is it? Have I been crushed by everyday life for so long that I almost forgot moments like this? Is it a longing for warmth, comfort and satisfaction? Is it more?