I came again today. It was always the same. Cool autumn breeze blew out the leaves, made some of them flew away from their stem. Sometimes it stuck in our hair; you hate that but somehow always laugh after picking that leaves out of your hair and mine. Some days you will just let the leaves stuck in your hair until the same breeze blew that out itself.
The same aroma and warm feeling greeted me as I entered the building. Caramel, wasn’t it? The same scent you always had on your body, I remember that. The little bell chimes when I pushed the old wooden door. You love that chimes, you said the sound of it was comforting. Reminds you of your childhood house. The creaking sound of the wooden floor when I walked to our favorite corner didn’t change. It’s still there, left me smiling to myself every time I stepped on that.
The corner we usually sat never changes either; leather sofa with mahogany table in front of it. The view of sakura trees blossoming all pink in the spring also stay the same. Sadly, today it has turned into some kind of lifeless tree without any single leaves left on its bony stem. I remember how you used to frown when we watched that leaf-less tree from this seat. You said the tree looked anorexic and unhealthy, you hated that.
Slow and gloomy jazz music was played. Ah, the old man must be in a dark mood today. Maybe because of the decreasing visitors, since this old quiet coffee shop has nothing to offer compared to those with free Wi-Fi and more modern ambience. But we always love the comforting silence it offers right? Especially you.
I ordered Americano again. Not a surprise of course. You once said I need to try any other menus, change of scenery so that I won’t get easily bored. Funny thing, because that was said by a person who always ordered cafe late with lots of creamer and less sugar. And never gets bored with that.
The old man brought me my order himself, smiled his ever so warm smile and greeted me politely. Like he always did every time we visited this coffee shop. I still remember that you would always greeted him back and asked him how he was, and then he would answer ‘Fantastic like always’ before waltzing back to his usual place behind the counter. Today however, it’s his turn to ask how you were.
Well what can I say? Sometimes I wanted to ask myself the exact same thing. How are you there? It must be fun since I clearly remember your bright smile when we said our goodbyes that night. Do you still hate pickles? I know you would throw that little cucumber away every time we have burgers for lunch. Then we’d argue about how delicious pickles for me and how disgusting it was for you, like we would argue about the greasy pasta we made. Well, good news for you, I can finally eat that pasta now.
You know, there are times when I wanted to just step on my pedal and drives past this old wooden building, but I can’t. There are other times when I just want to look for another coffee shop to visit instead of keep visiting this one for years, but I still can’t. My friends said I got to move on and try to find a new you, but I just can’t. They said maybe it’s not ‘I can’t’ maybe it’s ‘I don’t want to’.
They are true.
“Let her go,” my friend said, tapping my back lightly.
A little smile formed on my face as I knelt and place a bucket of chrysanthemum in front of the tombstone of your grave. “I already did…”
Now Listening: Coffee Shop – BAP