The time spent in a run-down coffee shop healed my heart.
An afternoon on a day I was working from home.
I had been facing my computer all morning.
Work was going well.
Even so, I felt like my mind was being pulled into the screen from staring at it for so long.
I wanted to change the air a little.
I put my laptop in my backpack and headed to a nearby old-fashioned coffee shop on my bicycle.
I pushed open the smoked glass door.
Chime, chime.
A small doorbell echoed through the quiet shop.
The lighting was a bit dim.
White tables.
Dark brown vinyl-covered chairs.
The counter was lined with coffee mills, cups, order slips, and small ornaments, with only enough room for two people to sit.
In the back, an elderly master was quietly brewing coffee with an expressionless face.
I sat down at the seat furthest in the back and opened my laptop.
The shop was filled with a scent that seemed to have soaked in over many years.
Coffee beans.
Wooden furniture.
Slightly faded wallpaper.
Everything blended together to create an atmosphere that felt like time itself.
In the back of the shop, there was a small bookshelf.
Lined up on it were,
"Kochira Katsushika-ku Kameari Kōen-mae Hashutsujo".
"Golgo 13".
"Fist of the North Star".
The slightly sun-faded spines quietly told the story of the long time that had accumulated in this shop.
I replied to a few emails and made some minor edits to the documents.
Once I reached a stopping point, I took a sip of my blended coffee.
To be honest, as someone with an unrefined palate, I didn't think it was particularly delicious.
The aroma, too, wasn't something I could describe as being 'different' or special.
Even so, I had come to like this shop.
The reason wasn't the coffee.
By the window, a man who appeared to be a senior in life was reading a paperback book.
Every time he turned a page, he would quietly reach for his coffee cup.
At a four-person table, a woman in a suit had spread out documents and was writing something with a red pen.
Perhaps she was an insurance salesperson.
She would occasionally glance at her watch and then return to her work.
In a seat in the back, a man who seemed to be a regular slowly folded his newspaper, paid his bill, and left the shop.
No one was talking.
Even so, each of their lives was quietly intersecting.
I usually work alone at home, facing my computer.
It is not rare for a day to end without me speaking to anyone.
It is convenient.
I can concentrate, too.
But in exchange for that convenience, my heart sometimes turns inward before I even realize it.
At times like that, coming to a place like this changes my mood a little.
Someone is reading a book,
someone is working,
and someone is drinking coffee.
Even without exchanging words, there is a sense of human presence.
Just working in that atmosphere gave me a sense of security, as if I were spending the same time as a member of society.
Silent communication.
Perhaps such time is unexpectedly luxurious in this day and age.
I close my computer and leave the shop.
Chime, chime.
The doorbell rings again.
I headed home on my bicycle, feeling the evening breeze.
To be honest, I didn't really understand the taste of the coffee.
But the hour I spent in this shop certainly remains in my heart.
What I tasted at the coffee shop was not just a cup of coffee.
It was a time when the presence of others flowed slowly.
Today's takeaway
People can settle their hearts in the presence of others, even without exchanging words.
#LifeReignited
#60s
#TraditionalCoffeeShop
#ShowaRetro
#WorkingFromHome
#Cafe
#Coffee
#WorkStyle
#EnjoyingDailyLife
#ExplorationSeries
[Another challenge started in my 60s]
As part of reigniting my life, I am also working on writing novels.
I am currently publishing a legendary mystery novel on TALES.
It is a slightly different world from note, but this is also an important creative activity for me.
If you are interested, please take a look.
Ranked for 7 consecutive weeks!
▼ TALES work page
(Link)