Black Coffee (Makhai, 1 more)

Coffee. Leander wasn't sure when was the last time he sat down to drink a cup of it. He used to go to coffee shops a lot while he still attended college, usually with some books in hand to pass the time. However, they rarely were books related to what he was studying at the time: he didn't enjoy reading books about practical engineering, after all. Instead, he usually carried a novel or history book around to entertain myself, and the coffee made it a great experience. So for old time's sake, Leander decided to go out and search for a good coffee shop in town.

It didn't take him long to find one. It looked like a decent store, with a neon sign on the front and music coming from the inside. They also seemed to sell a bunch of other stuff as well, and not just coffee, so Lean was free to ask for something else if he got hungry.

He walked in. The inside had a comfortable feel to it, and people weren't being too noisy, a perfect place for a guy that just wanted to read some books. Though usually he wore tattered clothes because he didn't care about looking good, that morning he had decided to go out with a slightly better set of clothes. Maybe because of that, no one looked at him weirdly as they used to do. Taking notice of a piano in one corner of the store, he took seat in a table close to it, hoping that someone would start playing a relaxing tune. He had heard music before entering, and he hoped that the same person would take a seat and play again.

Someone from the shop had come to his table. he was a really well-dressed young man, looking almost out of place inside the shop. Leander felt a big contrast between his sloppy choice of clothing and the suit and tie the other wore. The waiter flashed a smile, and then asked the traveler what he wanted to have. Leander gave the Pumpkin Latte some thought, but decided against it, as it sounded expensive.

"A cup of black coffee will do." Leander answered. "Also, a tuna sandwich if you have 'em. If not, any other type will do." His hand reached for the backpack that he had left aside when he sat down. From one of the upper pockets, he retrieved a small book, a novel that he recently acquired from a shop a few blocks away. It was an old and cheap book that would fall apart if not handled with care, but Leander couldn't resist the urge of reading books like that. "Oh, one more thing: is someone going to play something on this soon?" His finger pointed at the piano. "I'm in the mood for some music."

After a few pages into the story, Leander gazed away from the book to see the waiter leaving the sandwich and coffee on the table, along with the bill. He stretched his arm to take the bill and check how much it was. A bit more expensive than he had expected, but yesterday had been a profitable day, so he could afford that much. The coffee smelled nice, and the sandwich looked tasty. Leander thanked the waiter with a nod of his head before taking a sip from the cup. Black Coffee... truly the best type of coffee; without sugar or cream. Ever since Leander took a liking to it (mostly because it was the best at making him feel awake), he had never ordered anything else.

Leander's face showed genuine surprise when the waiter sat in front of the piano. So HE was the local musician, huh? As he played the piece, the traveler easily noticed how skilled he was: Leander was no music expert, but that alone was proof enough of the kid's ability at the piano. He returned his sight to the pages of his book, and fortunately enough he had reached a tense part in the story, which fit the mood set by the waiter's piece.

"Hey, that was pretty amazing." Leander clapped for a few seconds after the young man was finished with the 4-minute song; he was sitting close enough to the piano for the other to hear. "I didn't expect to find such a good player in a shop like this... oh, I'm not trying to offend the shop. It's just... surprising, to say the least. Was that piece original, by any chance? For some reason I doubt it's just a song I don't know." Leander flashed a brief smile before taking another sip of his cup.

"I... see." Leander couldn't say he had ever heard of that popular cartoon: they never interested him, and it had been a long time since he last sat down to watch television. He was a man that prefered to immerse himself in books and knowledge before movies and TV shows, but he didn't think badly of those that enjoyed them: they simply weren't part of his interests.

He noticed the sarcasm behind the pianist's words. The young man clearly wasn't there 'for the costumers': he probably played simply because he wanted to play. Leander was beginning to see part of his true nature, but he couldn't claim that he saw it all. The way he talked, however, reminded him of how royalty or noble-blood fellows would act. It was interesting, to say the least.

"Certainly, your clientele does look like it'd enjoy themes from cartoon shows, but obviously, that's not all you know how to play." Leander placed a hand on his chin, making it seem as if he was thinking hard about something. "How about this? Why don't you play something else? Something you really want to play? I'd believe you are free to do that, at least for one song." And then he'd show the young man a sly smile. "A humble costumer's request."

As the music began, Leander shifted his eyes back to the old pages of his book. He didn't intend to ignore the musician; on the contrary, while moving his eyes through the beautifully written words, he increased his level of concentration, ignoring anything that didn't belong to the world inside the book and the song that accompanied it. The particular piece was a tad bit longer than the last one, but more beautiful, in sync with the feelings with the player. Leander could feel himself being soothed by the melody and enjoying every second of it.

The waiter's fingers touched the final note. Silence consumed the store for a few seconds, but the rest of the costumers returned to their usual chatter after a while. Leander closed his book again, having finished a chapter during those 5 minutes, and looked at where the young musician stood.

"That was a good piece." He'd compliment him with those words. "I could feel some 'soul' behind it, if you get me. I only I could have a tune like that in the background everytime I picked up a book." Leander would let out a sigh.

"It's the difference between emulating a song and truly playing a song, right? I remember reading something about it on a book, long ago." He didn't mind sharing a table with the pianist: having a good chat with someone over a cup of coffee was sometimes better than being alone with only a novel at hand, after all. Another sip at the beverage, and then a bite at the sandwich. Little by little, his food was disappearing from his plate, and soon there'd be nothing left.

"I'm kind of jealous." Leander said afterwards. "I never had the ability or the imagination to dedicate myself to the arts: I discovered early on that 'creating' stuff is not one of my strong points. However," he patted the closed book at his side, "I'm good at analyzing and appreciating, so I have that going for me."

"May I ask where and how you learned how to play?" The wanderer was mildly curious about it.

Leander wasn't bothered by people smoking around him, as he had been quite the fan of cigarettes a few years ago; he left them when he began to fear that developing an addiction may have ended up being taxing to his wallet. Though he managed to overcome the temptation of fully going back to it, he still smoked from time to time whenever he felt really stressed.

"So you come from a wealthy family. Kinda saw that one coming. Meanwhile, I'm just a simply wanderer with a part-time job as a pedler that barely makes enough to eat and sleep. Not that I'm complaining though: at least now I'm not forcing myself to dedicate my time to something I hate." Leander sighed, looking again at the cigarette in the other's hand. "Say, would you happen to have a cig to share? It's been a while since I last had a smoke."

"A cigar will do. I don't normally smoke them, but not because I dislike them. I mean, just look at me." The man would open his arms, showing the pianist his plain clothes and the many stains that years of use had left in them. "It's clear that I'm not the wealthiest person around here. In fact, I stopped smoking as much as I once did because of how much money I had to waste every month just to satisfy my vice."

Leander took one of Michael's cigars, lit it and began to smoke it. The taste was certainly different, but good nonetheless.

"Besides, after leading my type of lifestyle, you begin to feel guilty about using your money in 'mundane pleasures'." With one hand he waved in the air the book he was just reading. "Buying books and stuff to study, however, doesn't make me guilty. A 'healthy pleasure' of sorts."