Makomin
Sleeping
Ol' timer
Ding!
The sound of a doorbell ringing resonated the almost-empty cafe.
As soon as the wooden door closed, the waft of food being cooked from the kitchen at the back circulated the room like a fly would. One would think the smell of fresh food smelled amazing but anyone from a mile away could recognise the underlining smell of grease it offered. It was sickening to a certain extent but not because of its own presence. It was obvious the owner of the said cafe was a cheapskate, considering the only object that provided a fragrance of sorts were the little bags of air fresheners used in cars that were scattered around in random places in the cafe.
Not to mention, the decor of the small cafe was dreadful to anyone's eye. There was a mix of vibrant colours that didn't blend well while furniture of the same functions were different in size and types. Everything looked like a mess-- mustard yellow plastic chairs pushed into wooden round tables, random coloured bean bags scattered the cafe in odd places, trying to convince bystanders that despite its horrid first impression, they were indeed a 'hipster' cafe of sorts.
Though the cafe itself would be considered a sight for sore eyes, literally, they had their fair share of regular customers that helped them run the place. They often found themselves glancing for a moment at the wooden plaque that was hung just above the serving hatch that gave a glimpse to the inside of the kitchen-- Ol ' timer. The name of the cafe was fitting, considering their patrons were usually middle-aged men and older individuals.
A particular man who wore a brown fedora sat at a table that was meant for four. His seat for the past two years has always been the same. The white hair that grew on his head was now kept shorter than he did when he was younger. The wrinkles on his face, more visible and age spots were more prominent just under one of his eyes. He slouched more than he did when he was still working as a contractor for construction companies but the one thing that remained was his bright smile. He always told his children that smiling was one way to express their gratitude for the blessings they have received thus far. They would shake their heads at him and call him a silly, old man but he would remain smiling because he knew, that all he had left in his world was and still is, a blessing to him.
He smiled down at his cup of black coffee. Just a few more minutes, he told himself as he fixed the collar on his worn work shirt. His children would nag him to buy a new one or at least, allow them to buy him one but he always said that this was one of the items he had left that reminded him of his wife who had passed away five years ago.
He missed her dearly. Oh, did he miss her. But he knew that she did too, wherever she was and if she could see him now, she'd hammer his head with her walking stick. He chuckled at the memory of her and found himself looking back at the entrance of the cafe.
Just in time, it opened and the ding! of the doorbell rang, signalling to those working in the cafe that a customer has entered.
A woman with shoulder-length blond hair gave the cook from inside the kitchen a small wave and a grin before making her way further into the cafe. As soon as her eyes met his, her grin widened and the small wrinkles that appeared on her cheeks meant nothing to her for a minute, "Lawrence!"
The old man stood up, the smile on his face reciprocating hers as he called her name in habit, "A lovely morning to you, Katherine."
He couldn't help but admire the way the greying roots of her hair were slowly increasing in length. The way her eyes seemed to glisten even more as she grew older each day. Maybe it was because he fancied her and people might call it an ol' timer's infatuation but she really was a beauty to him. He knew that even his wife would agree.
"I see you're at your usual spot, you old man." She said teasingly before taking her seat. Katherine then smoothed her long light purple skirt before placing her wrinkled hands on the table. They were the only part of her body she wishes looked like when she was young.
Lawrence couldn't help but chuckle at her usual jest before replying, "How could I not when I get to sit across a fine woman such as yourself?"
The old woman couldn't help but blush even though she had heard the same pick-up line countless of times. Katherine loved the way Lawrence said it with as much sincerity as he could. She hated obnoxious cries of love films displayed. She also disliked bouquets of flowers being sent to her doorstep-- only God knew that those things die faster than their 'love'. However, in all her years as an unmarried woman, she found the sincere gaze of a man with the utter of such words more shaking than any of the wonders of the world.
"Oh, stop it, you cheesy ol' timer." She replied back before signalling for her usual cup of tea and toast.
The old man chuckled yet again before he reached his hand forward and laid it on Katherine's. Contrary to belief, she wasn't surprised at all. In fact, she laid her other smaller, wrinkled hand on top of his before saying, "I am glad you are my ol' timer."
The sound of a doorbell ringing resonated the almost-empty cafe.
As soon as the wooden door closed, the waft of food being cooked from the kitchen at the back circulated the room like a fly would. One would think the smell of fresh food smelled amazing but anyone from a mile away could recognise the underlining smell of grease it offered. It was sickening to a certain extent but not because of its own presence. It was obvious the owner of the said cafe was a cheapskate, considering the only object that provided a fragrance of sorts were the little bags of air fresheners used in cars that were scattered around in random places in the cafe.
Not to mention, the decor of the small cafe was dreadful to anyone's eye. There was a mix of vibrant colours that didn't blend well while furniture of the same functions were different in size and types. Everything looked like a mess-- mustard yellow plastic chairs pushed into wooden round tables, random coloured bean bags scattered the cafe in odd places, trying to convince bystanders that despite its horrid first impression, they were indeed a 'hipster' cafe of sorts.
Though the cafe itself would be considered a sight for sore eyes, literally, they had their fair share of regular customers that helped them run the place. They often found themselves glancing for a moment at the wooden plaque that was hung just above the serving hatch that gave a glimpse to the inside of the kitchen-- Ol ' timer. The name of the cafe was fitting, considering their patrons were usually middle-aged men and older individuals.
A particular man who wore a brown fedora sat at a table that was meant for four. His seat for the past two years has always been the same. The white hair that grew on his head was now kept shorter than he did when he was younger. The wrinkles on his face, more visible and age spots were more prominent just under one of his eyes. He slouched more than he did when he was still working as a contractor for construction companies but the one thing that remained was his bright smile. He always told his children that smiling was one way to express their gratitude for the blessings they have received thus far. They would shake their heads at him and call him a silly, old man but he would remain smiling because he knew, that all he had left in his world was and still is, a blessing to him.
He smiled down at his cup of black coffee. Just a few more minutes, he told himself as he fixed the collar on his worn work shirt. His children would nag him to buy a new one or at least, allow them to buy him one but he always said that this was one of the items he had left that reminded him of his wife who had passed away five years ago.
He missed her dearly. Oh, did he miss her. But he knew that she did too, wherever she was and if she could see him now, she'd hammer his head with her walking stick. He chuckled at the memory of her and found himself looking back at the entrance of the cafe.
Just in time, it opened and the ding! of the doorbell rang, signalling to those working in the cafe that a customer has entered.
A woman with shoulder-length blond hair gave the cook from inside the kitchen a small wave and a grin before making her way further into the cafe. As soon as her eyes met his, her grin widened and the small wrinkles that appeared on her cheeks meant nothing to her for a minute, "Lawrence!"
The old man stood up, the smile on his face reciprocating hers as he called her name in habit, "A lovely morning to you, Katherine."
He couldn't help but admire the way the greying roots of her hair were slowly increasing in length. The way her eyes seemed to glisten even more as she grew older each day. Maybe it was because he fancied her and people might call it an ol' timer's infatuation but she really was a beauty to him. He knew that even his wife would agree.
"I see you're at your usual spot, you old man." She said teasingly before taking her seat. Katherine then smoothed her long light purple skirt before placing her wrinkled hands on the table. They were the only part of her body she wishes looked like when she was young.
Lawrence couldn't help but chuckle at her usual jest before replying, "How could I not when I get to sit across a fine woman such as yourself?"
The old woman couldn't help but blush even though she had heard the same pick-up line countless of times. Katherine loved the way Lawrence said it with as much sincerity as he could. She hated obnoxious cries of love films displayed. She also disliked bouquets of flowers being sent to her doorstep-- only God knew that those things die faster than their 'love'. However, in all her years as an unmarried woman, she found the sincere gaze of a man with the utter of such words more shaking than any of the wonders of the world.
"Oh, stop it, you cheesy ol' timer." She replied back before signalling for her usual cup of tea and toast.
The old man chuckled yet again before he reached his hand forward and laid it on Katherine's. Contrary to belief, she wasn't surprised at all. In fact, she laid her other smaller, wrinkled hand on top of his before saying, "I am glad you are my ol' timer."
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