Ethan, wrapped in a dark wool coat, made his way down the familiar streets.
As he turned the corner, the familiar sight of The Beanery came into view. It had become a small ritual for Ethan, an unspoken solace amidst the chaos of his thoughts. Today, though, there was a subtle shift in his mood.
Pushing open the glass door, Ethan stepped inside. The familiar warmth of coffee and freshly baked goods enveloped him, offering a brief escape from the autumn chill outside. He moved towards the counter with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the room, expecting to see the familiar face of Sara, the barista who had greeted him for months.
But today, she was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, there was someone new.
'Hmm.'
Ethan's steps faltered as he took in the sight of woman, her auburn hair falling in soft waves around her face, her emerald eyes sparkling as she prepared a cup of coffee for a customer. There was something distinctly different about her compared to Sara—where Sara had been quiet, with a more reserved presence, this new barista seemed to radiate a warmth and energy that filled the room. She moved with grace, her smile genuine and unguarded, much like an effortless brushstroke across a blank canvas.
Ethan approached the counter, curiosity piqued. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice low and calm.
She looked up, meeting his gaze with an easy smile. "Morning! What can I get for you today?"
"A black coffee, please," Ethan replied, his eyes still studying her. "You're new here, aren't you? I don't remember seeing you before."
She nodded as she began to prepare his order. "Yeah, I just started a couple of days ago. The other girl, Sara, had to leave for personal reasons."
Ethan's brow furrowed slightly, the news unexpected. "Sara left? I didn't know. She was always here."
She shrugged lightly, handing him the cup. "I guess she needed a break. Happens to the best of us, right?" There was a pause before she added, "I'm Lila, by the way."
"Ethan." He couldn't help but return with a polite smile, though his was more subtle. "Nice to meet you, Lila."
Lila noticed the shift in his expression, her own smile faltering for just a second as if caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze.
She chuckled softly. "You too, Ethan. I take it you've been coming here for a while?"
"For a few months now. It's one of the quieter places around," Ethan said, glancing out the window briefly. "A good spot to think."
Lila tilted her head slightly, her smile widening. "What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"
Ethan hesitated for a moment, considering how to answer. He wasn't one to share much about his personal life, especially with strangers. But something about Lila's presence felt disarming, as if she invited honesty without effort. "I'm an artist," he finally said, his voice quiet but steady.
Her eyes lit up. "An artist? That's amazing! What kind of art do you do?"
"Paintings, mostly. I just had an exhibition last night, actually." Ethan took a sip of his coffee, the warmth of it a welcome distraction from the conversation's unexpected direction.
Lila's interest seemed genuine, and her curiosity made her eyes sparkle even more. "I'd love to see your work someday. I'm a writer, well, an aspiring one at least, so I get the whole creative world thing. You must have so many stories behind your paintings."
Ethan restrained himself from chuckling and found himself studying her more closely. There was something refreshing about her enthusiasm. Sara had been friendly but detached, always keeping their conversations brief and impersonal. Lila, however, felt different—like a new layer being painted over the old, adding depth and color to an otherwise monochromatic scene.
"I suppose every painting has a story," Ethan admitted, though he wasn't sure how many of those stories he was ready to share. "But I'm not sure they're as interesting as you might think."
"Everyone has a story worth telling," Lila said, leaning against the counter slightly. "Sometimes it's just about finding the right person to tell it to."
Ethan gave a little smile and his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he intended. There was something captivating about the way she spoke.
"Well," Lila said, breaking the momentary silence, "if you ever feel like sharing, I'm all ears. It's always nice to hear about other people's creative journeys."
Before he could say more, the door to the café swung open, and another customer stepped in, breaking the moment.
He was about to say more when the man from the couple at his exhibition caught his eye and waved him over.
"Looks like I've been summoned," Ethan said. "Thanks for the coffee, Lila."
"Anytime," she replied, her voice soft, though her eyes lingered on him for a second longer before turning to the next customer."Enjoy your coffee, Ethan. I hope to see you around."
Lila smiled at Ethan again, this time a little more rushed.
He took his cup and turned towards the door, a strange sense of anticipation creeping into his chest. "You probably will," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Ethan made his way to the table where the couple sat. They were both in their late forties, well-dressed in the casual elegance of the city's upper class. The woman, with dark hair and sharp features, smiled warmly as Ethan approached, while her husband gave a nod of acknowledgment.
"Ethan, good to see you again," the woman greeted, extending her hand. "We were just talking about your exhibition last night. That third painting—the one we bought—was absolutely breathtaking."
Ethan shook her hand and took a seat across from them, his eyes briefly glancing back toward the counter where Lila was chatting with another customer. "I'm glad you liked it," he said, focusing his attention on the couple. "That one was… a bit different from my usual work."
The man, a well-groomed figure in a tailored coat, nodded in agreement. "It definitely stood out."
Ethan smiled faintly, recognizing the connection. "It was inspired by the Fates from Greek mythology, actually. Three women holding a thread, deciding the fate of mortals. The red in the painting… well, it represents the fragility of life, the blood that ties us all together."
The woman leaned in, intrigued. "That makes so much sense. I knew there was a deeper meaning to it."
Ethan nodded, though his thoughts were only half-present in the conversation. His gaze kept drifting back to Lila, who was now laughing at something a customer had said. There was something effortless about the way she moved, the way she interacted with people.
"Ethan?" the woman's voice brought him back to the present.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" he asked, realizing he had missed part of the conversation.
"I was asking if you've ever done exhibitions outside of New York. We have a home in Paris, and I think your work would do incredibly well there."
Ethan considered the question for a moment. "I've had a few smaller shows in Europe, but nothing on the scale of what I've done here. Paris would be an interesting place to explore."
The man chimed in. "Well, if you ever do, let us know. We'd love to help get you in touch with some galleries over there."
"I'll keep that in mind," Ethan replied with a polite smile, though his focus once again drifted to Lila. She had just finished serving another customer and was now wiping down the counter, her focus seemingly elsewhere. But every now and then, her eyes would glance toward him with a small smile, as if she could feel his attention on her.