THE QUIET CAFE

A very old café which was located outside the city, in a calm and quiet area. The café was run by an old lady who filled the place with the aroma of coffee. The café had very old aesthetics, with aged photo frames hanging on the walls. The wooden tables and chairs were neatly arranged. The café smelled of freshly brewed coffee.

It was not a very famous café, so the crowd was minimal. Only a few people were sitting here and there. People were having slow conversations, sipping their coffee. But there she sat, in the far corner of the café, next to the window, with a book in her hand. She was not reading it, but carefully looking at a photograph. Her softened eyes held a lot of pain to share, and she was completely zoned out.

A teardrop was about to fall when she suddenly swiped it away. Just then, she heard her name being called and went to the café counter to grab her coffee, carrying the book in her hand.

Old lady: “How many times, Eira???? How many times should I keep yelling your name?? Every time you order your coffee and sit blank in the corner.”

Eira offered an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, sorry… I was just lost in my thoughts. Aage se dhyaan rakhungi.”

( Ill be more carefulful next time)

The old lady mimicked her.

“Lost in thoughts,” she murmured, then added, “This girl is so strange. Hazaar baar naam pukaro, aise baithi rehti hai jaise ki yeh naam iska hai hi nahi.”

( this girl is so strange. No matter call out her name for thousand times acts as if its not her name)

Eira didn’t hear—or she was least bothered to hear. She headed back to her seat, dragging the chair very slowly, making almost no noise. She sat down and started taking small sips of her coffee, reading the book with obvious focus this time.

Eira visits only one café in the entire city, and this is the one. She hates crowds, and to avoid people, this is the only café where she gets good coffee and a sense of comfort. She chooses calmness and peace, as she easily gets disturbed by noises.

And in the same moment—

A car stopped straight in front of the café.

“Why did you bring me to this boring café, Rishi?” a voice complained.

“Arey, Ishaan, let us explore every part of our city. Now we’ve reached, and you come out. You have no other option left,” Rishi said authoritatively.

The car doors opened. Two boys stepped out—clear curiosity on one face and least interest on the other. Rishi pushed the door open and entered the café.

Ishaan said, “Seriously?” while glancing around the café. “Tera dost na hota, toh aise aaltu-faltu jagah pe kabhi na aata.”

“Ha ha, maine sab sun liya, Ishaan ji. Ab aa hi gaye ho, toh viraajmaan bhi ho jao.”

“This café has no aesthetics,” Ishaan whispered into Rishi’s ear, looking at the people sitting there. “I wonder if the coffee is good here.”

Rishi ignored him and walked toward a nearby table to sit.

Meanwhile, Ishaan was still standing near the entrance, completely analyzing the café—each and every corner. And then his eyes fell on her, quietly sitting, distinctly far away from everyone.

Seems like the café is not going to be boring anymore.

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