"The first thing you need to understand," Marcus said, releasing her hand and moving to the coffee bar, "is that seeing truth is a lot like brewing coffee. Too weak, and you miss the essential notes. Too strong, and it becomes overwhelming." He began setting up various items – different beans, grinders, filters, and cups, arranging them with methodical precision.
Sarah followed, settling onto a bar stool to watch. "Is that why you chose a café? As some kind of metaphor for divine insight?"
A slight smile crossed his face. "Sometimes a café is just a café." He placed three identical cups before her. "Now, close your eyes. When you open them, I want you to look at these cups and tell me what you see. Don't try to see anything special – just observe."
Sarah did as instructed. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at three seemingly identical white ceramic cups. But as she looked closer, following Marcus's earlier guidance about letting truth reveal itself naturally, subtle differences emerged.
"The first cup," she said slowly, "it's... older than the others. There's a story there, something about..." she squinted slightly, "...a young couple's first date?"
Marcus nodded approvingly. "Good. You're picking up on emotional resonance. Objects can hold memories, especially in places where divine energy flows freely. What about the others?"
"The middle one is new, but it's..." she struggled for words, "it's waiting? Like it hasn't found its purpose yet." She turned to the third cup and frowned. "The last one... I can't see anything special about it at all."
"Perfect," Marcus said, beginning to prepare different blends of coffee. "The third cup is shielded – wrapped in a bit of divine mystery, you might say. Learning to recognize when something is deliberately hidden is just as important as learning to see what's concealed."
The morning light streamed through the windows, catching the steam from the espresso machine and creating dancing patterns in the air. Sarah found herself relaxing into the lesson, the strangeness of her situation giving way to curiosity.
"Your gift," Marcus continued, his hands moving with practiced efficiency, "isn't just about seeing through disguises or reading divine auras. It's about understanding the connections between things – how the mundane and the divine interweave in everyday life." He poured three different blends, one into each cup. "Try them."
Sarah lifted the first cup, and as she sipped, a warm feeling of young love and nervous excitement flooded through her. The second cup tasted like possibility – clean and bright but somehow unfinished. The third cup, surprisingly, tasted like perfectly ordinary coffee.
"The third cup actually contains the most complex blend," Marcus noted, watching her reactions. "But its true nature is masked, just like you'll need to learn to mask your abilities. There will be times when seeing everything isn't just overwhelming – it's dangerous."
The bell above the door chimed, and a group of morning commuters entered, their routine need for caffeine temporarily interrupting the lesson. Sarah watched as Marcus shifted seamlessly into his barista role, each drink he prepared carrying subtle touches of what she now recognized as divine energy – a hint of courage in an espresso for a woman headed to a job interview, a touch of calm in a latte for an anxious-looking student.
As he worked, Sarah noticed something else – how the café itself seemed to respond to his presence, but in ways so subtle she might have missed them if she weren't paying attention. The lights brightened or dimmed by barely perceptible degrees, the ambient temperature shifted for perfect comfort, and even the music from the speakers seemed to adjust itself to each customer's unspoken needs.
When the rush subsided, Marcus returned to her. "Your homework," he said, sliding a small paper bag across the counter, "is to practice with these." Inside, she found three bags of coffee beans, each labeled with simple instructions. "Brew them at home, but try to sense their stories before you taste them. And Sarah?" His expression grew serious. "If anyone else with an aura like Apollo's comes into the café, don't engage them. Just leave quietly and text me. Some of my siblings aren't as... diplomatic as he is."