Coffee on a Rainy Day — A 10g Luxury.

There was a shop I felt strangely drawn to, as if pulled in by a magnet. Facing the bus street near the station, the shop had a sign with rounded lettering that read, "Coffee on a Rainy Day."

Inside, a neat-looking man in glasses was roasting coffee all by himself, and the sweet, bitter aroma drifted all the way outside. I didn't have any particular business there, but as if summoned, I gently opened the door and stepped inside.

I think it was a day when I was terribly tired. Outside, the sky was covered in thin clouds, and the sun was certainly beginning to set. Inside the shop, rows of coffee beans sat neatly on plates, and the pop-up signs displayed coffees with mysterious names like "Blend: Rainy Day" and "Blend: Summer Shower." I knew that the strange sensation of being inside a story was just due to the stylish naming, but it made me, a coffee novice who had accidentally wandered into an unfamiliar shop, suddenly feel out of place.

The owner just said "Welcome" and didn't try to strike up a conversation. Realizing I was permitted to be there, I slowly peered at the coffee beans when a disheveled-looking man strode into the shop from behind me.

"Blend: Rainy Day, 10g."
"Sure thing."

The owner, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, put just 10g of the blended coffee into a paper bag and handed it to the man.

"Is it 10g per cup?"

I spoke for the first time since arriving. "That's right. That's about how it goes. Freshly ground is the most delicious, you see, and there are surprisingly many customers like that."

The image of the man who seemed to know the very essence of coffee was deeply etched into my mind.

From that day on, I made it a habit to buy "Blend: Rainy Day" on my way home every day, learning the joy of drinking just one cup of coffee.

After I learned about this coffee for rainy days, I moved away soon after and haven't been back in a long time, but I heard a rumor that the owner, who used to work at an advertising agency, had his catchphrase for wanting people to enjoy coffee even on rainy days turned into the shop's sign.

Trying to hide my ignorance, I would just say "10g of the blend" every day to buy my coffee, but I felt that was enough. I discovered the extraordinary experience of buying just 10g of my favorite coffee. I learned the joy of pouring just one cup of something delicious. It was over ten years ago, but I still think it was a more fulfilling way to spend money than buying clothes or cosmetics.

Back then, a cash-based economy was the norm, and the 10g of roasted coffee I could easily buy with the loose change in my wallet was a way of spending that matched the salary I earned from my labor.

Can I spend money like that today? Looking at subscriptions and credit card statements where I can't even tell what I spent the money on, the word 'waste' flashes through my mind.

Even so, I still make sure to keep the habit of pouring a cup of coffee in the morning, no matter how sleepy I am or even if I'm about to be late. It is a promise to myself, a simple task to calm my heart, and also a way to affirm the version of me that used to go buy that 10g of coffee back then. The bitterness of the coffee is the beginning of my day, and also the end of my day. A bitterness that dares not seek sweetness is just right for my life.

Today, it was very sunny. Even if my heart is having a rainy day, the coffee is there for me. Just one cup of bitter, bitter coffee. I equate that bitterness and aroma to life, and I moisten my throat with it again today.

#WhatIsThisStoryAboutCoffee