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November 20, 2004
Pride in one's work/Café Sensual
We got out of bed at 1, which meant that the usual Saturday schedule for puttering was off by a few hours. Kitchen cleaning, laundry sorting and houseplant care meant that I didn't even get to think about coffee until 2:45.
After depositing the light and dark loads, I walked to a nearby café, a croissant firmly in my thoughts.
It was after I pushed in the coinslot and heard the quarters drop that I realized my clothes were separate yet equal. I have a fundamentalist, faith-based conviction that everything should be washed in hot water.
The quiet woman dispensing caffeine has gotten better at her craft since her first day as a trainee two months ago. I inspected the day's croissants (trying to guess which was filled with what by inspecting the shape of each pastry), and watched the counter woman deftly drop two shots of espresso into a tall cup of foamed milk.
There's an art to it. Have you ever noticed how people with jobs that might be considered mundane will always work in a little razzle-dazzle? I've seen a guy chop pineapples with flair enough to draw a crowd, and jaded commuters in Grand Central applaud a shoe shine man who whistled while buffing a paradiddle and a high shine on a pair of loafers.
The coffee was a sexy brown swirl against the bubbled milk, a storm on the planet Latte, as viewed from space. The drink's future owner was a pinched-looking young woman with a studious look; her hair pulled back from her face, she wore a gray sweater and an A-line gray skirt that reached to her ankles.
She gave the barrista four bucks and reached for a cookie, accidentally dipping her sleeve in her cup. When she angled her head to lick off the foam, she ceased being a schoolmarm almost immediately.
Posted by Your Protagonist at November 20, 2004 02:22 PM