The Barista

It smells like earth, sandalwood, and clay when I walk in. A mixture of  Bohemia, art, and music. The loose leaf herbal teas sit in small crystal jars on the counter, with the name of the blend written on white paper taped to the front. It's warm. I feel comfort against the outside cold. I walk up to the blackboard, different specialty coffees, herbal teas written in chalk. I can't make up my mind so I just stand there. I reach in the back of my mind, trying to remember the special ailments each herbal tea is good for.  A deep rich voice startle me out of my thought retrieval. I turn. He's black. Not black but the color of rich orange pekoe tea, that has one too many tea bags in the cup of hot water. He has a bald head, with little tufts of hair sticking straight up in a Mohawk. He smiles. It's pretty. Even white teeth. Not one speck of breakfast or lunch on them. He tells me I can smell the teas that are in the crystal jars. He says that have the tops of salt and pepper shakers on them. I thank him. Smile back shyly. I decide on chamomile. He puts the tea in a metal tea ball, he smiles again and tells me that he put enough tea leaves for two or more cups. If I want more  hot water, just ask. I smile shyly again. My face  grows hot. He steps from behind the counter, and for the first time I see his attire. I'm impressed. Jeans that are faded, worn, and torn at the knees with splatters of different paints on them. His shirt, which was once blue, or maybe black, is faded as well, with bleach spots, paints, marker blotches all over it. He is an artist. Which means he is spontaneous. Which means he isn't afraid to take risk. Which means he doesn't care.  I smell his scent. He smells like oranges, wax, paint, and a chemical I can't put my finger on. He smells like ambition. I sit at the small table by a bookshelf. I feel like a woman I read about. She had a crush on a baker. The baker baked an assortment of breads and she "Ate half her weight in pastry" and "had the jitters from drinking too much coffee". Just so she could stop in watch, and mentally embrace the baker.  I suddenly felt the urge for something sweet to eat.