The Road Not Taken (Part I)

“If I hadn’t been a scientist, I would have been a writer. You know, a writer who would steal and dramatize happenings from daily life and sell them.”
I watch him carefully lift the classy white ceramic pot of coffee cream and pour some in his porcelain mug. He picks up the teaspoon buried in the sugar, and puts a spoonful in his coffee. The scent of deeply fried coffee beans wafts from his cup. I watch the white of the thick coffee cream slowly evade the black of the coffee – a battle both end loosing – as he slowly stirs the coffee forming a small whirlpool at the center. He swirls it so deliberately, so passionately, and occasionally brings the spoon against the wall of the mug to make that clinking sound.His movements are genuinely precise, perfectly timed and utterly subtle.