Coffee and Cigarettes and Everything in Between

Karina

There was an air of sophistication looming over the room as I look at each well lit frame that hang from the wall. She finally made it. Her very own art exhibit. 

Looking across the room that's currently full of people admiring her work, her passion, I felt a sense of fulfillment as I reminisce the decision that I made three years ago. I was proud of her then and more so now that she was able to extend and fill her potential.

"I've tried a lot of workshops and trainings in the past and yes they've helped me. But you know I want to be better than before. Don't we all want that? To be a better version of ourselves. I like to see where my passion takes me and just how far I can push myself to be the best that I can be. Thus these paintings around us. Hopefully I'll be able to put them up soon. My very own exhibit." 

You made it. You're finally having you're own exhibit. It isn't a dream anymore, Winter.

My train of thoughts were disrupted when a body from behind accidentally bumped into me.

"Hey I'm s—Karina unnie!" It turned out that the stranger was Ningning.

"Where were you? We were just over there a minute ago and when I turned around you were gone." I said as I motioned to the right side of the room where the bigger paintings are hanged.

"There's too many people that I mistook you for another. I thought that exhibits are a ghost town but Winter is proving me otherwise." She says with a move of her hand to emphasize her point.

She was right. It was a jam packed house tonight and to think that this is only the second day is crazy. She is exceeding expectations.

"And have you seen the prizes! Oh my God! If this is what a painter makes in a single night then let me excuse myself to find my own." She made an act of looking from left to right like she was scrutinizing the crowd much to her dismay her height was at a disadvantage which made her automatically give up on her mission.

Another point well made by Ningning. The prizes are off the roof. It takes an art critic to tell an ordinary person why a series of random lines could add up to six digits at most and five digits the least. 

It wasn't the end product that made the paintings' prizes go up but it was the process. I've seen Winter work before. The concentration on her face as her right hand hung in the air, eyebrows furrowed as she think of where she would slide the tip of the paintbrush next. The countless block that she have told me where she could be sitting all day in front of her work and not be able to add even a single . The precision that it took to not miss the target line and the right amount of pressure on pressing the paintbrush so it wouldn't spill over the canvass.

It was the process that mattered. It was the process that made the paintings special. I couldn't tell Ningning this because she'd just probably tease about Winter so I just shook my head with a smile as I lock in my memory of Winter giving it all for her dream. The memory of her precious smile as she looked back at me from her seat proudly smiling at her work and she'd ask me, "Are you okay? It's boring isn't it?" with that shy smile of hers. Then I'd answer back with a smirk, "Nothing is boring when I'm with you, baby".

"By the way where is Seojun?" Ningning asked she sipped her free drink provided by the artist.

"Isn't he with you?" I asked in return because the last time that I saw him he said he was just going to go with Ningning to go see the biggest piece of painting on the hallway across from where I'm standing.

"He's your plus one. You should know where he is."

"But he said he was going with you to see the biggest piece."

"With all of these people, he most likely got lost." 

"After all these years he still at directions." I murmured to myself as I remember his confused face every time he makes a wrong turn or forgot where he's going. Men usually had directions listed as one of their forté but with Seojun it just makes him extra adorable.

"Sir this piece isn't for sale. This o—" A commotion at the far side of the room where the small paintings are hanged caught Ningning and my attention.

"I'll pay for it. Name the—" Seojun. I can't be mistaken. That low baritone voice couldn't be anyone's but his.

Ningning looks at me with a knowing look. She drops her glass on the table and together we went to where Seojun's voice was coming from.

"I'm sorry sir but it isn't for sale." The lady whom I think is one of the assistants in the exhibit repeatedly said to Seojun but knowing the persistent man, he wouldn't just quit that easy.

"Seojun let's go." I said to him as I tapped his back breaking his heated but quite hilarious exchange with the lady. He turns to me and for a second confusion filled his features unti