Visit 5

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It was the strangest thing, that night. I hadn’t cried in years. Not even when my father died of cancer a few years back. But that night, sitting with a cup of coffee in my hand, I cried. I cried and I cried. I forgot to pay the shop owner for the drink. That’s why I went back again. At least that’s what I told myself. It was as if he was expecting me, because as soon as I stepped inside he smiled and bowed, gesturing to a table with a small cup on it. I sat and drank. It felt familiar. More than déjà vu and more than being comfortable and used to it. I truly could not explain it. I didn’t cry this time. I sat for a long while, thinking. I eventually looked up at the owner, and he smiled so softly. It was soothing. I felt at ease in this shop. And I smiled. I felt like me again. I finished, got up and walked over to him, bills in hand. He didn’t accept them. I left them on the counter.