Orchid was working the bar that night. Modu had a thing for Orchid, and she had a thing for him. Of course, his thing was barely disguised lust and her thing was barely disguised loathing. Such was the life of Thursday nights at the coffee house. What it meant to me was that I spent most of my time not fetching Modu drinks, since he spent all his time at the bar. I got to watch some tepid entertainment, usually. That night, I was watching my friend Bill and his girlfriend fight.

"I said no and I meant no," growled Bill. The truly remarkable thing about this argument was that both participants were maintaining a very low volume, something unheard of in this particular establishment.

"Look, all I’m saying is that you could consider trimming it," reasoned his girlfriend, Cher or Char or Sheri or something like that. Bill had many girlfriends, of which this was but one, so I’m not sure even he took the time to remember all their names. Every Thursday night or so, what was about to happen would happen, so they were never around long enough anyway.

"I will do no such thing," steamed Bill. "Look babe..." Apparently I had been right and he hadn’t taken the time to learn her name; "babe" usually worked just fine for him. "...It’s either me as it is or you alone without me. Capeesh?"

"Then I guess I’ll see you later." Like clockwork, Bill’s relationships were. After about a week the novelty of the thing wore off and Bill and his new love would fight, split up, and probably never speak again. Bill was running through women like a machine gun runs through bullets, with roughly the same effect on the surroundings.

"Tough break," I said to Bill, who was fuming.

"Hey, I can do better, right?" It wasn’t really a question, so I didn’t answer it.

The thing whose novelty had just worn off was Bill’s beard. You could lose a rabbit in his hair; it was a mess, curly, disheveled, dirty, and so long it looked like his head was growing out of the top of a topiary. I didn’t really understand where the novelty of it was in the first place, but then I was not Bill’s girlfriend. Nor was I likely to be.

"Can you believe her?" This also wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer it either. "She goes on and on about how she thinks it makes me look rugged, and then she wants me to shave it off. What kind of crazy does she take me for?"

Even though that wasn’t a question either, I couldn’t resist. "A hairy crazy?" I guessed cheekily. Then I quickly went to see what Modu was up to, since Bill was definitely a hairy crazy if nothing else.

Modu was not up to anything when I caught up to him. "Disciple, time for a lesson about life," he said dejectedly, patting an empty stool beside him. He didn’t look in my direction, but since he was an all-knowing guru I didn’t ask how he’d known I was there. He was busy gazing dejectedly at Orchid, who was busy avoiding his gaze. I sat.

"You see, there are two types of beauty in this world," said Modu after a pause. "One is physical. It is the joy of life, the stuff of dreams. It appears on the horizon each morning. It can be found in all things if you look hard enough." He lapsed into silence.

After five minutes of wondering what the second type of beauty was, I gently prodded, "And..."

"The second is spiritual, something we all seek but never find. You will never find it; you’re too mundane. But if you could look through my eyes, you could see true spiritual beauty; you could gaze upon it but never possess it. And that, my son, is true torture. If you aren’t ready to face that pain, every day of your life, you have no business seeking my wisdom."

There didn’t seem to be any response I could give which would fit, so I kept quiet and watched Modu watch Orchid until closing time.