Hidden in the Paint

~Chapter 2~ Leo

Warmth. Coziness. Peace. People. Coffee.

My pen scratches across the sketchpad as I look back and forth from the scene in front of me and the surface of my paper. A waitress takes form, then two girls holding hands in a booth near the front windows. A boy with choppy black hair who has his legs crossed and a book in his lap. The grouchy teenage worker mopping the floor near the back of Sweet Brews. The stray tabby who's drinking cream out of a shallow bowl.

Steadily, the sketch comes together.

As I'm shading in part of the floor, someone sets a glass of lemonade onto the table with a dull thud. I don't look up but put my pencil down, observing my work. My eyes stop when they reach the reading figure. I glance up at the boy I had drawn and then back at the sketch. It doesn't look right. Something is off.

Wait. His eyes. I can't see his eyes. They aren't in the sketch and I can't see them on the living person.

Feeling dissatisfied, I put my pencil behind my ear and take a sip of lemonade from the cool glass. Sometimes it's quite a task to put what I see in front of me onto a piece of paper, but it's not usually this difficult. With a sigh, I close my sketchbook. It's been an off day for me.

My eyes periodically shift to the boy who's reading. Something about him has drawn me in, but I can't quite figure out what that something is.

I drop my gaze, trying to shrug off the feeling. It comes up more often than I'd like. Anyone intriguing will normally catch my attention in the blink of an eye, and occasionally the feeling of wanting to 'get to know' the person will join in. It's rather frustrating, to say the least.

I have at least 15 sketches of what I like to call the 'rarities', or 'uncommon finds'. Bland, I know. But people like that are the ones I don't spot very often. I tend to come across them on Tuesdays; oddly specific, right? Today is Thursday. This is either very lucky for me and I've come across a gem, or I'm just an idiot who needs new eyes.

As a waitress steps in front of the boy, hiding him from view, my phone buzzes. I nearly choke. I'm late for my shift at the bookstore.

In several seconds of panic, I grab my sketchbook and my pencils, slap several dollars on the table and dash out of the cafe. Halfway to Lucky's, a blast of wind that slaps me in the face causes a sharp realization; like the dumbass I am, I forgot my scarf. Well, it's too late now- I'll have to get it tomorrow. Kamaria will kill me if I'm later than 10 minutes and I can say goodbye to that small-but-still-quite-helpful income I receive from Lucky's. That isn't something I can afford to lose, at this point.

Upon entering the shop, Kamaria swoops down on me, her long black hair pulled back away from her face. Her hawk eyes move from me to her watch.

"Seven minutes late. Watch it, Jun. That's two minutes later than last time," she warns, her narrow brown gaze giving me a disapproving look before she departs into the history section. I let out a sigh of relief, glad to still be alive, and head back to the staff room to grab my name tag and tidy up my clothes a bit.

Although I'm exhausted and worn out already from the day's other shifts at various places, I'm used to it. My work is diligent as always- well, as diligent as it can be at a bookstore. Charlotte, a 20-year-old with wild fiery red curls that reach the middle of her back and a vicious cursing streak, is working the cash register as usual. A newspaper is in her hands and a toothpick sticks out of the side of her mouth. She works more than I do, which is an incredible feat, I must say, so I hold a high respect for her.

However, having two aggressive forces such as Kamaria and Charlotte working at the same place almost every day is not a walk in the park. They constantly snap at each other and get into arguments that don't ever reach a solution. How the bookstore hasn't collapsed into a heap of rubble yet is mostly thanks to Simon; a somewhat grumpy 24-year-old with bleached hair, several piercings, and the shortest span of patience I have ever seen. He has a talent for breaking up fights, which all the other employees and customers definitely appreciate.

While restocking part of the cookbook section, I spot him explaining to a new recruit how the whole system works with Kamaria as our manager. I pick up the words 'natural disasters' several times and smile to myself. I can't think of any other perfect descriptions.