Logs:Calling All My Starbucks Lovers

Calling All My Starbucks Lovers
Dramatis Personae Kitty, Sarah
In Absentia	2020-08-17 I think I just don't expect worlds to collide like this.
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. Bright sunshine streams through the cafe’s few windows, telling of a gorgeous day outside. Inside, breakfast rush has come and gone. Only a few customers remain here and there while baristas use the quiet moment to catch their breath, tidy, and restock. One of the customers that remains is decidedly colorful and human passing, seated at one of the larger tables in the back. Dressed in red tights that are more holes than legs, frayed acid wash shorts, and a black tee that reads ‘PICK YOUR WEAPON’ with a variety of cooking utensils underneath, Sarah also sports some new hair! Shades of cotton candy, lavender, and robin’s egg blue have replaced the vibrant pink, the colors blending and fading into the next like watercolors. She also seems to have staked out a spot to occupy for the long haul. While she sits alone, the table is nearly full—a large cup of iced coffee and half-eaten breakfast sandwich seem lost, surrounded by folders spilling out papers and stacks of sketchbooks, issues of Create! open and spread out, a notebook and pencils next to a small pile of wadded up notes. Written at the top of the freshest notebook page is ‘WHAT IS AN ARTIST STATEMENT’. Nothing has been written below it just yet. Instead, Sarah scrolls through her phone, stress lines growing on her forehead as her eyebrows move closer and closer together. It's still summer, barely, but Kitty's workload doesn't seem to be particularly swayed by that. The tiny woman rolls into Evolve with a heavy looking backpack pulling at her shoulders, an empty reusable mug in her hand, and a general air of dishevelment. She's got black boots on, the laces on the right shoe coming undone, denim leggings and a short sleeve green button up that's seen better days. She places an order - large drip coffee, chocolate croissant - and bee-lines for the big tables in the back. A look of surprise crosses her face, briefly, as she notices the woman sitting at the table Kitty was gunning for. She changes course, dropping her bag with a thud underneath the one just to the woman's left. She's got a lot to unpack - laptop, notebook, textbook, - but between it all she keeps stealing glances at her table-neighbor's hair. Looking up at the approach, Sarah offers a quick apologetic smile as Kitty changes courses. Looks back down to her phone, up again at the thud of backpack meeting floor with somewhat widened green eyes. Peers down at the backpack and floor, checking for cracks maybe. Glances up in time to meet Kitty’s own glance. “Oh!” Cheeks flushing pink, she ducks her head back to her own work. “Sorry. That sounded heavy, though. Is your back okay?” Kitty smiles softly when their eyes met, a little pink rising in her own cheeks. "Ah, don't worry about it. I'm stronger than I look." She rolls her head briefly from shoulder to shoulder, pulls a few more things from the bag. "It's worth it to get out of my place, anyway." Another sideways glance. "I like the," she circles her own head with her hand, "layers you've got going on. Really cool." There is a glint of recognition in her eyes. “You must be. It looks like it weighs as much as I do!” Though going by Sarah’s short and petite stature, that is maybe not as much as it seems. Placing her phone down with some relief, she does not seems at all bothered to flip her notebook closed and pick up the conversation. “Thank you,” she exclaims with a smile, brushing through multi-colored bangs with the fingertips of her left hand. “I can’t take any credit for it, though. The guy that did it is an artist huh? He’s responsible for these too!” She turns her hand around with delight, fingers briefly wiggling. On the back of her fingers, upside down at this angle, are what seems to be tattoos of a set of four kitchen utensils. A whisk, rolling pin, silicone spatula, and wooden spoon are all done in delicate black lines, hanging from a bar across her knuckles. “I thought about getting ‘BAKE’ on the other hand, but that seemed like overkill.” Kitty glances at her laptop like she owes it something, but ends up twisting her body to face the woman with the fun hair anyway. Her eyes widen at the tattoos, expecting something - then she laughs. "Oh, those are great!" Her eyes flick back and forth from the fingers to the hair. "Your guy is a real talent." She tilts her head - "Sorry, I just," Kitty's eyes light up with recognition. "Do you work at Montagues?" “He’s always looking for clients, if you want me to put you in touch with him.” Done with whatever she was working on for now, Sarah pulls her half-eaten sandwich closer, extracts an avocado slice to nibble on. “Oh!” Snapping her fingers, she points at Kitty with her own recognition now. “Yeah, that’s me! You’re, um…” Her face scrunches up in thought before the information comes to her. “Drip coffee and a pastry, right? Though I guess that isn’t your actual name.” She laughs, holding out her hand in introduction. “I’m Sarah. Nice to meet you.” Kitty laughs again. "I'm predictable, I see." She shakes the other woman's - Sarah's - hand, keeping contact just a second longer than was just friendly. "Katherine. Most people call me Kitty, though." After a moment, she pulls away, brushing her own hair - midlength, brown, mousy even - out of her face. "Sorry it took so long to recognize you - I think I just don't expect worlds to collide like this." “I don’t mind predictable with customers. And it’s alright, you’re probably used to the--” Sarah waves a hand, motioning to her general self. “—uniform and my old hair. And a different café!” Stirring the ice around in her glass with her straw, she glances at her many things spread over the table. “If you want, I can tidy up some over here. There’s plenty of room, my project just kind of…” She extends the fingers of one hand wide. “Spread.” "Oh," Kitty hesitates, "I mean if you need the space, don't worry about it." She looks at her own pile of work and sighs. "I do the same thing. Spread out to fit the space I have to work with." She looks over again, glancing at the notebook. "What is an artist statement..." she reads out loud. "Writer's block?" She scoots a little closer, not really noticing the squeak of the chair. “Yes? And no. It’s more... ‘I’m not sure what statement I’m trying to make’ block,” Sarah sighs, scrubbing a hand through her hair. Tufts of pink-purple-blue stick up here and there. She starts to gather stuff into more organized piles, revealing there actually is a table somewhere under there, and wags an issue of Create! at Kitty. A vibrant landscape in bright greens, stark pinks and blues, and flat gray road graces the cover. “They want one with every submission. It’s supposed to be…” She trails off, checking her phone. “A not-too-long series of sentences that describe what you make and why you make it,” she reads off the screen, words a little halting. Sets the phone back down to look at Kitty, equal parts confused and exasperated. "Hm." Kitty frowns, taking the magazine gently from Sarah's hand. "Is it it supposed to be general, or specific to the piece you're making?" She puts the magazine gingerly back on the table - "I don't really know art so well, but I've done my share of grant applications." She smiles a little, her feet pulling the chair closer still. "I can be a sounding board, or something. If that's something that helps you." “Well, they take anywhere from three to ten submissions at a time.” Sarah grabs the table, using it as leverage to pull her chair over and give Kitty more room. “So I guess something in general about me? And asking me to put why I make art into short sentences is like. Like.” She leans over to read one of the titles of Kitty’s textbooks. “Like asking you describe Extragalactical Astronomy and Cosmology in a few short sentences.” Her tone changes from vaguely put-out to amazement somewhere in the middle of that, and she looks back to Kitty, impressed. “Geez, you’re into advanced stuff.” Kitty nods like she understands (she doesn’t), quickly leaning back to let Sarah get a better look at her books. “Oh, jeez. What a nightmare.” She laughs nervously, glancing at the book in question. “I guess it’s a little wacky, yeah. I’m, uh, I research this? I’m a grad student at NYU.” There’s a little more she wants to say, but instead she flips it back. “Well, why do you make art? Like, what would you tell a nerd like me, not whoever at the magazine?” She shrugs. “I make a lot of stuff make more sense to me by trying to explain to people who aren’t, like, physicists. Might help?” “Oh, I don’t think it’s wacky,” Sarah says, shaking her head. “Just not what I was expecting to see. Grad school is basically new game-plus for college, right? That sounds like a college-plus textbook.” She has to lean under the table some to grab a purple canvas messenger bag. ‘Never too old for fairy tales’ in white script sits in the right bottom corner, a star-topped wand on either side. Certain folders and sketchbooks, seemingly at random, begin to be put away to give Kitty more tablespace. “Oh gosh. It might help, but I’d need a minute to figure out how to put it into words. Want to explain some space stuff to a non-nerd until then?” she asks, with a shy grin. “A dork, if you will.” Kitty blanches, then laughs. "I mean, sure, why not?" She pulls her bag of bricks over so it's fully under Sarah's table, giving up on the concept of working by herself entirely. Next game over the laptop, the other books, the notebooks, all stacked on top of each other. There would be time to spread it all out eventually. Her coffee was still warm - she took a sip, giving Sarah a small smile over the top of the mug. "Nu, so, the thing about space is ..."