There you are.
Your black overalls on top of your blue collared shirt. Your plain, straight hair above your precious blue eyes. You’re tapping the touch screen in response to the sounds you hear. Flat white. Soy latte. Espresso macchiato. Double shot. Half strength.
There is the constant hum of brewing coffee beans, the shriek of frothing milk, the thump of the chocolate shaker. There is the powder it leaves behind across your workspace. It makes you look like a messy artist. The coffee bar is your creative workspace.
You clear the plates of the people you serve. You ask me so gently if I want another coffee. You clean the bench in your creative workspace. Then, more customers arrive.
You look at them and from behind your touch screen, you’re ready to tap again. You look at them and I look at you. I see you serving others. I don’t know how to describe what I feel for you, young boy in a coffee shop. But I love to watch you.