A long winter was about to end.
The interior had remained unchanged since that day. “Mum...”
Hanging from the ceiling, the wooden fan rotated slowly. “I’m...”
The three large clocks on the wall each showed different times. The shaded lamps tinted the interior with a sepia hue.
Kazu drew in a deep breath in this café where time seemed to stand still and placed her hand on her stomach.
“I am going to be happy,” she exclaimed.
As she said this, Kaname, while still looking down at her novel, smiled warmly. It was the same smile that Kaname had given Kazu when she was alive.
“Mum?” said Kazu, and at that moment Kaname’s body, like vapor rising from freshly poured coffee, rose upward.
The vapor hung in the air for a moment and then simply vanished into the ceiling.
Kazu slowly closed her eyes.
Kaname had disappeared and a gentleman in his early old age was sitting in the chair. He picked up the novel that was left on the table and turned to the first page.
“I’ll have a coffee, if I may?” he said to Kazu.
For a moment, she stood motionless, silently staring up at the ceiling. Then she finally slowly looked down at the gentleman.
“...Certainly, I’ll go and make it,” she said and walked off sprightly to the kitchen.
Seasons flow in a cycle.
Life too, passes through difficult winters. But after any winter, spring will follow. Here, one spring had arrived.
Kazu’s spring had just begun.
Looking for more from the café? Read on for an excerpt from Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. Available now.
Before the Coffee Gets Cold
by Toshikazu Kawaguchi
i
The Lovers
“Oh gosh, is that the time? Sorry, I have to go,” the man mumbled evasively, as he stood up and reached for his bag.
“What?” the woman said.
She looked at him with uncertainty. She hadn’t heard him say it was over. But he had called her—his girlfriend of two years—to come out for a serious conversation...and now he had suddenly announced he was going to work in America. He was to leave immediately—in a few hours. Even without hearing the words, she knew now that the serious conversation was about breaking up. She knew now it was a mistake to have thought—to have hoped—that the serious conversation might have included “Will you marry me?” for example.
“What?” the man responded dryly. He didn’t make eye contact with her.
“Don’t I deserve an explanation?” she asked.
The woman spoke using a questioning tone the man particularly disliked. They were in a windowless basement café.
The lighting was provided by just six shaded lamps hanging from the ceiling and a single wall lamp near the entrance. A permanent sepia hue stained the café interior. Without a clock, there was no way to tell whether it was night or day.