"Ahhh, sometimes coffee is better than sex," slender Carl said wiping his lip. Janine chuckled and blushed. She looked into his deep set eyes and wondered what he was getting at. 
      "You simply," she smirked, "like coffee too much." His eyes burned into hers. 
      "Oh, I don't know," he waived a hand casually, "There are a lot of similarities. I think it's perfectly valid" 
      "Oh sure," she drolled sarcastic, "I see that. No problem." 
      "I'm serious. Think about it. Everything seems sharper and more real after you've had both, right? Both can be really sweet or really bitter. They both leave you wanting more soon." 
      "They're both wet and sticky? They're both best when dark roasted?" she joked. He ran his fingers through his short black hair and laughed. 
      "You artist types, you never enjoy the irony of a good metaphor." 
      "Ah, tell it to Picasso." 
      "All right, all right already. Maybe the link between coffee and sex isn't that obvious, but I'm sure it requires further research." Janine stared at him. He was pushing this pretty hard. She wondered how far she would take it. 
      "Hey, if coffee could give you an orgasm, then being single would be a lot easier." She looked down at her latte and then leaned back coyly. 
      "An excellent point, an excellent point," he rapped the table three times, "and philosophically stated, too. But it strays from the point." 
      "And what is the point?" 
      "That sex is better with coffee." Janine laughed. 
      "I don't remember that point." 
      "You have to read between the lines. It's all in interpretation." 
      "I'm sure I could get lost reading between your lines, Carl." 
      "Oh, I wish you would." He gazed at length. "But for now I need another cup. Want one?" 
      "No dear, I'm hot and bothered enough as is." Carl stood and almost tipped his chair over. 
      "I'll be right back," he smirked, "don't go anywhere." 
      "I wouldn't dream of it," she called. 
      Janine leaned back and was lost in thought. Her face turned serious. She remembered Carl's attraction when they met, but that went nowhere. That was before Alex. He was sweeter than Alex that's for sure. But he was going to Toronto next month and anything that happened would be meaningless, no real attachment. It, like so many other things, seemed hopeless. She looked at him at the counter. It would be easier to say no, as she should, if only he wasn't so sexy, so young and untouched by the world. She realized she missed something along the way. She was lost in thought when he returned. 
      "So, short, dark, and beautiful," Carl grinned, "I have a proposition for you." Janine raised a questioning eyebrow. 
      "Oh yeah." 
      "Yeah," he chuckled and smirked. The steam from his coffee floated by adding to his impishness. He folded his hands and brought them to his chin and smirked knowingly. 
      "If you draw my picture," he stated, "I'll tell you the meaning of life." 
      "Ha, that's you're proposition." She glanced at him sideways. 
      "You were expecting something else." He opened his hands to her. 
      "Oh no, no... ...no. And I think it's a perfectly decent offer." 
      "Perfectly decent?" 
      "Perfectly decent." Janine dug in her bag for her sketchbook. "But I make no promises. I've been doing a lot of work and I'm much better than I was, but it's hardly perfect." 
      "That's okay, I'm not sure I've quite perfected this meaning of life thing either." 
      "It's a deal then," she drew herself up and stroked the pad to get a feeling for it's size. "So, who goes first?" 
      "You first, it's my idea" 
      "All right, but it'll take a while." She looked at his face critically, studying the lines, the light and the expression he wore. She began to draw. 
      "Hey did you hear about, Alex?" he timidly asked. 
      "No, I haven't seen or heard from him in a while." Her voice was flat. 
      "I caught him over at Camelot when he wasn't dancing." 
      "He was at Camelot and he wasn't dancing?" 
      "Yeah, for about five minutes. Anyway I guess he moved out of town." 
      "Really," She paused, "Why?" 
      "To work on his great American novel or something?" 
      "I hope he has better luck than last time. He told me he just couldn't concentrate on something that big. I think he want's to fail." She lost herself in her drink. 
      "Really?" 
      "Yeah, he keeps shooting himself in the foot and giving up every time he gets going. Hey, stop moving around like that." 
      "Sorry." Janine kept working, but her mind wasn't on drawing. She was thinking about Alex. Alex's work was a big reason why they broke up. He worked sporadically and wasn't bringing in any real money with his short story magazine. He had dreams but they never went anywhere. It got to a point where she was supporting him. When Alex dropped his part time job at the gas station, she had to do something. Her job as a clerk in a boutique couldn't cover everything. She threw him out of the apartment. But he came back a week later, all apologies. And then she had to move out. That was two months ago, but she still hadn't been able to go back to the old clubs and shops, the old haunts. She was afraid of seeing him, or his friends or something to remind her of him. Over time it got worse and worse. That brought her here, to a safe friend. 
      "Here," she handed over the quick sketch. Carl looked it over. She had been right, it wasn't perfect. The nose was too long and thin. It was well, drawn but not quite his and the cheekbones and ears were more like hers than his, but the hair was pretty good and the eyes, she had to admit, were dead on; deep, intelligent and mirthful. They carried the glint of a just told joke. And the thin slightly parted lips were drawn with a sensuousness she's never quite drawn before. Still, hardly up to her standard. 
      "This is pretty powerful." he stared at it seriously. "Very good... Is this how you see me?" Janine cleared her throat. 
      "No. Not really," She stopped and drew a deep breath. "Your nose is much wider than I drew it." She raised her hands in apology. 
      "I like it. Really. I prefer this nose. I'll have to frame this." 
      "Oh don't." 
      "No really," he smiled, "something to remember you with when I'm at grad school." 
      "Well, thanks." She looked down at her lap, at her hands. They were so small. No masterpieces there.
      "Well," she looked up, "How about that universal truth?" 
      "Oh, after this picture, it seems so meaningless." 
      "C'mon, we had a bargain." 
      "Geez, Okay, if you really want to hear it?" 
      "Yes, I really want to hear it. Hell, I paid for it." 
      "All right," he inhaled deeply, "It's pretty simple. In fact you'd never guess that it would be such a big thing, but then again life is pretty simple and huge and small at the same time, right?" 
      "I guess" 
      "Yeah, so the secret of life should be simple and small, yet huge and complex. And it is. And this," he waved about, "is it." 
      "A coffeehouse?" 
      "No, no, no. This... life... this moment. Life is it's own secret, it's own meaning. It's not in art or books or legends or philosophies. It's the moment turning to the next and our passing through it. Hell, Aristotle and Plato knew it. They even wrote big bulky things on it, but couldn't express it. How could you compress a day, an hour or a single moment into a book. You can't. All these things around us that surround us are life's secret. Everything. Even this coffee. Yes, this coffee is the secret of life. It's that simple and we should just enjoy it" 
      "I spent ten minutes on a picture for this?" 
      "I told you it was a bit rough on the edges, but I still think I'm onto something." 
      "Yeah, I have to admit you might have something there," she smiled at him, "but it needs work." 
      "Hey, when you perfect my nose, I'll perfect my thesis." 
      "Hey I can only draw it, it would take a team of plastic surgeon's to perfect it." 
      "Oww, that's a low blow. Be careful. My nose is sensitive." Janine started to laugh at Carl's serious tone and Carl quickly broke down too. But soon the laughter died down and all that was left was a soft chuckle and two people leaning intimately over a small table. Janine looked into his so close pleading eyes. She felt her resistance slip. It would be easy to fall into this desire, this moment, this man. But as she drew closer Alex was there. His eyes not Carl's, looked across the table from years ago with the same longing and love and passion. She drew back into her seat. A chill passed. 
      "Hey, are you all right?" Carl asked. 
      "Yeah, it's," she looked at his confused concern, "it's nothing." 
      "I'm sorry, Janey... I didn't mean,,," he drifted off and sat back. 
      "No, don't worry." She stared at his empty cup. "I'm just tired is all." 
      "Yeah, I guess it's getting kind late." 
      "Yeah I suppose." Neither one of them moved. She looked at her sketch again. It felt like someone else had drawn it.

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