Chapter 1: Flat White
The aromatic smell of robusta blends in with the vibrant bustling streets lights. A smell I could never neglect, a memory of mine that I could only share with my own father coming to this cozy-looking coffee shop. As I chase that nostalgic scent, my face lights up again at the front door of the fully-flourished café. The warm dim lumine coming from the door lights fondle my whole world, shedding lights to the dark and gloomy self I am. I took a deep breath and pushed the door forward as if I were unveiling the hidden chamber at night. The barista turns his attention towards me. His eyes look old, tired and dreadfully sagged. Still, he greets me with his welcoming body gestures and offers me a seat near the counter.
“I’m good sitting here,” I say, while waving back at him.
It’s the same barista, the owner, who once served me several years ago, though his eyes seemed to have forgotten who I was. Well, the last time I visited here was back when I was still studying elementary school, so I really couldn’t expect much from him. There aren’t many people sitting around here at 11 at night so I stopped by just to indulge this silence by myself.
“Mr. Sakiyama, one cup of flat white please.”
He looked startled for a moment, but then proceeded to prepare my order. I guess he really doesn’t recognize me. I used to be one of his close customers, now I am no other than just another stranger to him. Sometimes I wonder whether living a life without any excitement really is worth it. It’s just a fleeting thought. Mr. Sakiyama is very dedicated to his work, but isn’t he just obeying to what society demands? A loop of serving orders to customers. After he is done with his shift, he would probably shut the front door first, and then make sure every serving equipment is perfectly sanitized. He would also turn on the radio that is at least 10 years old to listen to his favorite song while preparing his favorite americano. Well, that is what he would have done several years back then. This is just my pure assumption.
While I was busy overthinking his daily routine, my order was served without me noticing. It’s a flat white. The hot steam still lingers on the surface of the cup with so much heat that I could feel it just by inhaling the air near it. I gently hold the handle of the cup with my left hand, the smell of creamy steamed milk suddenly shocks my nasals awake. A sense of nostalgia floods my mind. It was not only a comfort drink for me back then, but also a reward my father used to give me after I finished cram school back in the days. Now, I guess it doesn’t feel the same anymore as it used to. That feeling of accomplishment after a tiring day of studying really fades away after graduating from school.
“Mr. Sakiyama, you really don’t remember me?”
Words just spontaneously came out of my mouth. How can I be so unconscious while speaking out loud? With regrets at the moment, I slowly turn my face to the barista. Still, he is cleaning his instruments, looking deeply focused on his carefully calculated movements.
“...”
It seems like he didn’t notice me. With a relief on my face, I started to slow down my thinking. All I want to do right now, is enjoy my very own moment in this confined space. I close my eyes. Lean my head back. And start to imagine the world I endeavor.
In the dark, a world unfolds.
The space around me expands endlessly.
Nothing restricts the ability to “be”.
Light tears across the dark, like a night sky shattering into fragments of light.
They streak past me.
Fleeting and ephemeral.
Wisps of sparkle that dissolves before my fingers can remember how to reach.
There is no sound.
Or perhaps, there is only sound.
A silence ineffable in the way it echoes.
I wonder if this is what it feels like to disappear.
…
“You are pretty weird aren’t you”
Huh?
Right as I opened my eyes, there was a human figure sitting right in front of me… Since when? He looked like no one I had ever seen, so I could only assume he was trying to pick me up.
“I’m not interested, thank you,” I say.
“Do I look like a service to you? I hate assumptions, though I think you have the right idea of what I intended to do. What are you up tonight princess?”
His accent gave him away immediately. French, if I had to guess, and overwhelmingly thick. The kind that strains your neurons, particularly when the one speaking has never once considered the feelings of another.
“My name is Dane, what’s your cutie name?”
His accent changed suddenly,... and I will pretend that did not catch me off guard.
“Avy,” I replied.
“You seemed uncomfortable around me already. I apologize for putting up an act just to get close to you. I bet you thought I was some random French guy trying to hit on you late at night. You’re just too easy to read,” he said.
He grinned, flashing a smile that probably expected some kind of reaction out of me.
“And I bet you thought I was French. Though having this type of hair may cause some confusion, I’m proudly Japanese.”
“Oh? Your English is profoundly good. You speak like a native. Also, I love your styling, especially your hair. What was it called again? A wolf cut? I genuinely thought you were a guy when I saw you earlier.”
“I can’t tell if you are making fun of my culture or simply complimenting me.”
…
“Who else shall I compliment then?”
His hazel eyes look directly into my soul. There was something tender about his genuine side, something I had not expected from someone who had just been putting up an act.
A good 5 seconds passed. I quickly gathered myself and asked:
“What are your motives?”
“...”
His shoulder broadened, the way someone does when they already know the answer. He slowly brought his left hand to his chest, almost ceremoniously, and opened his right palm toward me as if he was proposing to me. As if… that is.
“Avy, would you let me be the last person you ever have to meet?”
…
…
…
A beat of silence.
I looked at him first, then at his palm, then back at him.
“Sure”
CHAPTER 1: Flat White
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