It was quieter here than I thought.
The sign at the village entrance had an old-fashioned look, and the bus left behind a dusty trail as it passed the stop.
A few months ago, I wouldn't have even bothered to seek out a place like this, but these days, I desperately wanted to escape. The door opened without me even ringing the bell, announcing its presence with the sound of an old bell. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if I'd made a mistake, but the sound of a cat meowing halted my steps.
Inside, the air was quieter than the sound of a cat.
One person, and three cats. The yellow cheese cat sitting by the window blinked, and a small gasp escaped as a cat's tail brushed against his ankle as it passed by. Someone stood up from the corner table, and he slowly approached, speaking.
“If you’re going to sit, avoid the right-hand window. Dory hates it.”
His voice was lower than I expected. It was dry, but somehow not unpleasant. I hesitated, then carefully placed my bag on another table. I thought he might say something more, but he returned to the counter without saying a word.
The space where cats tread cautiously was so warm that even breathing too loudly felt like a human being would feel guilty. I sat down and tried to look at the menu, but instead of a booklet, all I found was a black chalkboard.
Coffee, tea, milk. No syrup. No packaging.
It was nothing special, but I laughed. That one line, written with a stern, almost annoyed tone, was surprisingly honest. I scanned the man behind the counter again. His pale, double eyelids, his slightly upturned, cat-like eyes, his hands moving silently. He had a somewhat sharp expression, but around the cats, he seemed strangely gentle.
“Coffee.”
I ordered quietly.
He nodded and turned away without saying a word.
A moment later, coffee was placed before me. It wasn't a small paper cup, nor was it a simple ceramic cup with a cafe logo. It was plain black coffee, nothing special, but strangely warm. It wasn't the taste, but the warmth I felt from the brief glance he gave me as he handed me the cup.
He left again without another word, and I took a sip of my coffee and sighed in relief. It was quiet here, and no one asked me any questions. That was something I was grateful for at the time.
A cat plopped down next to my shoe. Its tail swished lazily, and its paw absentmindedly rubbed its face. I slowly reached out, but the cat only blinked and didn't move. It seemed like the way around here was to just leave things be.
He came back and quietly put something down next to the table.
Two sheets of white tissue and a small package of yuzu tea bags.
“You look like you have a cold. Please bring your own water.”
For a word spoken with such a blank expression, it was strangely warm.
I nodded, a little taken aback, and watched him turn around, thinking again.
His words were brief, but his actions were long-lasting. He poured warm water into a cup, brewed yuzu tea, and looked out the window.
I wished it would rain. If it did, this silence would be a little more forgivable.
That day, for the first time, I felt that there was someone who could comfort me without having to say much.
I still don't know that person's name,
The coffee I had that day definitely made my day a little less bitter.