Gemotions

The cafe was nearly empty, the early morning light casting long shadows across the tables. He watched the barista, meticulously crafting a latte, the milk swirling into a perfect heart shape. His own art had been tattooed onto the barista's calf. He had come here, to see it, and to meet the man. He had received an invitation, a gesture that allowed him to see his work as more than just art. He was glad to have the time, and he felt a quiet satisfaction. He sipped his coffee, and waited for the door to open.