I’m sitting at the table where I have sat a good few times before. Being here still gives my heart a distinctive feeling of love as fragile as autumn leaves but also memories of some special moments, too.
We discovered the place by chance, simply because it needed to be near where he lived as he already had problems to walk too far. The first time we just sat outside and when my finger wiped milk froth from his mustache, he called me cheeky. I personally found it more polite than telling him: “Clean your mouth, will you?“ and it was a good excuse to check if he in his white shirt was not just a dream.
Other times we usually spent in the room where the second hand bookshop is. Sometimes he would even bring books he didn’t want any more and secretly put them on the shelves with others which made me feel somehow uncomfortable. We would talk, tease each other a little or just look out of the window. Most often we drank coffees but when I was hungry, he was happy to treat me to a pancake or an omelette which is very tasty here, I must say.
Later I started to come here on my own because it is one of those places where you can sit for hours, read or write and nobody minds because you are not the only one. Except for the evenings it is not crowded, there is just a pleasant buzz of chattering people, music and cups being affectionate with their saucers.
I still like this place very much but were I waiting for him, it would be Hunky Dory; on its own it is simply good old Ouky Douky off the beaten path.