The windowpane is cold against the side of my head and it is a small relief from the almost suffocating warmth of the room. The hard angles of the wall against which I am leaning are a sharp contrast to the soft cushions on which I am sitting. Black coffee fills the large mug I am holding, liquid hot enough to scald my skin pleasantly. Another customer enters, a refreshing gust of winter air following closely behind that seeps into the room and against my heated flesh.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee is instantly replacing the smell of crisp winter air. I can barely distinguish the scent of my sparsely used cologne from that of the overpowering scent of coffee and baked goods. My own fresh pastry is sitting on a tiny white plate in my lap and the smell of apples is wafting up to my nose. Each of these scents, aromas, and smells blend into a distinct fragrance that I will always adore.
A hint of minty toothpaste is hidden under the flavor of a deliciously baked apple pastry. A slight after-taste of coffee lingers on my tongue from the last time I took a sip from my mug. I slide my tongue across my lips and taste the vanilla-flavored lip balm that covers them. Memories of his vanilla-tasting mouth instantly register in my mind and I sink into reminiscence.
The jingling of the little bell harmonizes peacefully with the quiet sound of coffee beans grinding in the machines. Customers are placing their orders in soft voices, adding a delicate background noise to the quiet space of the coffee shop. I can hear the muffled footsteps of the employees busying themselves behind the counter, occasionally waiting on the few people sitting at the tables that are strewn sporadically around the open area. Over the soft hum of a busy morning, I just make out the sound of a charcoal pencil moving across the surface of a sketchpad.
I blink my eyes open and they immediately focus on the little blond that is curled up on the cushions beside me. I take in the look of concentration etched into his facial features and I can feel my eyes soften in affection. The beams of sunlight shining through the window illuminate his wild hair and soft face, creating an angelic image of absolute beauty. With my eyes focusing on the sole purpose of my world, the coffee shop in which we are located slowly fades away until all of my senses are fixed on Tweek.
He looks up from his sketchpad and his eyes immediately narrow, "Craig, your eyes are supposed to be closed."
I smile at his aggravated tone and lean forward to place a soft kiss against his forehead. I return to my position against the windowpane and my eyes close slowly, my senses drifting back into the busy atmosphere of the coffee shop.