Nobody quite knew where he came from – or how he got there. But there he was. Every day 11.00 am on the nail. One Espresso, never finished – ever. At 11:30 he would touch his phone for the first time and put it in his pocket without even looking at it. Hat straightened, he would walk off. Where to? Nobody knew. A young kid tried following him a couple of times, and by 11:35, both times lost the trail … in empty streets.
The son of the owner purposefully sat at that table one morning, in ‘his’ seat. As the man walked towards him, he heard a voice behind him asking him to check the kitchen – his dad needed him. He looked at the man. Walking steadily towards him, not even a break in the step. He was 5 steps away from him. NO sound NO voice. Nothing. His dad called again – urgently. He had to go and ran off to the backroom. The man sat down, no words, no hesitation, his Espresso seemingly appearing out of thin air.
The owner wondered why his son had come to the kitchen. The son couldn’t recall.
The dapper hat, the elegant coat – but worn with jeans was the ‘talk’ – except there wasn’t any talk. None. What was there to say?
One day he will share. Until then the Espresso will be enjoyed.
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