“Hi, welcome to Echo Coffee, what can I get you today?” Anthony looked down from the chalkboard menu on the wall and faced the young woman behind the counter. He smiled when he saw her. Red hair. Redder than his, even.

“Hi! Um, I think I’ll have a London Fog, extra steeped, please.”

The barista looked up from her orders at Henry. Or rather, at his hair. She smiled too, under her mask.

“Nice hair.”

Henry chuckled. “Thanks, you too. Don’t see many of us around here.” The cashier’s eyes smiled bigger.

“Nope.” She looked back down at her orders and jotted his down in quick, curly handwriting. “You live in Echo?”

Anthony nodded. “Just moved here, actually.” He said as he payed.

“Cool. Can I get a name for your order?”

“Uh, Anthony.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks. You?” The cashier looked up, surprised.

“Oh, um, Diana.”

“Good to meet you.”

Diana nodded. “You too. I’ll get that tea to you in just a moment.”

“Thanks!” Anthony strolled over to a small table by a window, and set down the book he was holding, Jane Eyre. He put on his glasses and opened up to where he had left off at home. Anthony wasn’t an old man, but he gave off the aura of one. He had a reasonably large red beard, a bulbous nose, and deep blue eyes, deep both in color and in thought, but not so introspective that his focus was entirely apart from the world. Indeed, the eyes showed that their purpose was ever fulfilled in observation, a symbiosis between gathering fact and the analysis of which.

It was this analytical scrutiny that made him love people and the speech between them, both in reality and literary dialogue, and also this that made him a connoisseur of beautiful things.

After a few moments, Diana came with his London Fog. “Here you go.”

Anthony looked up. “Oh! Thank you so much!” He took the steaming, frothy mug from her hand, on which he noticed a tattoo: Isaiah 41:10.

“Nice tattoo.”

“Oh!” Diana looked at her hand, surprised. “Thanks! It’s a good verse.” Anthony nodded slowly.

“Have you read the Bible?” Anthony asked, sipping his drink and closing Jane.

“Uh, not all of it, but I’m working on it.” She brushed back some red hair from her face. “Have you?”

Anthony nodded. “Good read. Are you a Christian, then?”

“Mm-hm. Are you?”

Anthony chuckled. “No, no. I enjoy the story, but religion is not my line of study.”

Diana looked a bit uncomfortable. “Well, enjoy your tea. And your book.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Thank you. Enjoy your book too.” She walked back to the counter. Anthony looked out the window, smiling to himself. A storm was mixing its paints in the palette of the wide Texas sky, preparing to paint puddles along the dry asphalt outside. Anthony closed his eyes, basking in his thoughts. How good it was to see the rain, to feel the wet, to hear the wind, and to know how beautiful it was; how beautiful again to combine the goodness with its explanation, to know the facts behind the sky, how the heat creates the wind creates the storm. “Scientists,” he thought, “enjoy the world twice more than those who leave the explanations to their gods.”

Diana’s hands trembled slightly as she steamed the milk for yet another order. Why had she said nothing? Even worse, he, Anthony, had read the entire Book, and she, a Christian, hadn’t even heard of some stories. She had to do something, but… it was scary – terrifying, even, to approach him with so little intellectual weaponry when he obviously was prepared to squash her arguments. “God,” she thought, “I can’t do this, at least not alone. Do you really want me to talk to him about you?” She listened. What was supposed to happen? Diana cursed herself for her ignorance. “And I call myself a Christian.” she muttered. She listened… what? Harder? She listened for anything as she waited for the espresso machine to heat up. “What am I waiting for?” The voice was almost imperceptible. “What are you waiting for?” It was louder. The thought grew and grew. This is my answer, she thought. I know what to do.

In the end, Anthony never became a Christian, despite Diana’s efforts. But they did become friends. Anthony continued to look behind the sky at the explanations, and gathered them up until he died.

Diana learned to look even further. She knew the artist behind the explanations, and knew him after she died.