The aroma of steamed milk and rich espresso hung in the air, a comforting blanket around Wu’s coffee cart. He was a fixture in Shunyi, Beijing, his hands moving with practiced grace, transforming simple ingredients into works of art – lattes adorned with delicate latte art. He’d been there since 2008, weathering the frenzy of the Olympics and finding solace in the quiet rhythm of his work .
Wu didn’s just sell coffee; he crafted moments. He observed the regulars – the suited businessman who relied on his double espresso to spark creativity, the young couple drawn to the neighborhood for the water park, their faces alight with wonder. He knew his coffee wasn’t merely a beverage; it was a catalyst, a small luxury that could brighten someone’s day.
One afternoon, Handong, a regular, posed a question that stopped Wu in his tracks: “If you made a coffee for yourself, and drew a design, what would you draw?”. It was a question he’s never considered. He’s always focused on creating for others, perfecting his technique, lost in the dance of foam and espresso.
Handong’s question lingered, prompting a quiet introspection. What would he create for himself? He thought of the countless hours spent practicing, the endless designs etched onto the surface of countless cups. Perhaps a simple heart? A landscape? He realized he’s been so focused on external artistry, he’s neglected the artistry within.
Later that day, a young woman approached, her eyes wide with admiration. Wu created a latte for her, adorning it with a delicate design: “him” in English letters, accompanied by a small heart, and “you” written beside it. The couple, clearly smitten, stole glances at each other, their faces flushed with a shy joy. The woman, captivated by the design, playfully chided him, “You’re making us blush! And we don’t want to drink it!”
Wu smiled, understanding that he had, once again, created more than just a cup of coffee. He’s created a shared moment, a memory, a spark of connection – a little wish, floating within the foam of a latte, ready to bloom. His art wasn’t just in the perfect swirl of milk, but in the happiness it brought to others, and in the quiet joy of simply being present, a purveyor of small, beautiful moments, one cup at a time.
LKW, based on Nanabee’s original novel.
