Most of his life, Kyle could easily stuff all of his belongings inside a single backpack—the one of which traveled from California and was now thrown in the seat beside him, currently holding his dirty work shirt and a couple rags. He claimed a table near the wall for the power outlet while his notebook, phone, keys, and drink were strewn across the surface, the air conditioning of the building giving a nice welcome. Feeling a presence lingering nearby, he raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother looking up from his sketch. “I’m a paying customer. I have coffee,” he reached out and raised his beverage for emphasis, “therefore, I reserve my right to this seat while my phone charges. Thank you.”
Zach made his rounds, checking in on his customers every so often. One this particular occasion, he hadn’t meant to hover, but the images on the page caused him to stare. He had yet to meet another artist. The pass time had taken the back burner the last few months with all that was going on in his life recently. It had been a bit of a roller coaster. “Oh no no, don’t mind me. I was just...” He held up the coffee pot in his grasp before pointing to the cup on the table. “Would you like a refill?” He was lingering, too intrigued by he strokes of ink on the page.
