Dear You | Daichi Sawamura
The bell above the door chimes, barista's harmonize a cheerful greeting, and the heel of my shoe clicks against the wooden floor. This place --this coffee shop is somewhat ritualistic for me, down to the very detail I walk through the door, and I still haven't gotten use to the girls behind the counter calling me by name. One is already preparing my cup of coffee.
A nervous smile breaks loose, and my hands instinctively reach for my tie which seems to tighten on it's own.
Coming here use to mean so little; it was just a stop before my work day began, now I can barely step foot in the place without my eyes begging to stray and my stomach twisting itself in knots. Each time I have to tell myself to be patient, that the time will come as it always does. Because it's not just solely ritualistic now. Now this place has purpose.
Second booth, beside the window, I can feel your eyes look up for the briefest second. They seer into my back, but I know as soon as I turn, yo