part 2
 
that night, he shut his laptop after a day of editing photographs. he decided that it was enough for the day, and he should tuck in. but he found that he just couldn’t leave his desk.
 
an empty styrofoam cup stood at the corner of his desk, a small fragrance of coffee still emanating from the hollow inside. he didn’t realize it, but a smile had crept onto his face already.
 
there was a reason he’d been frequenting the same café for one straight year, three hundred and sixty-five days. he hadn’t told anyone about it. figures, because who did he have to tell? his friends? he worked alone. his family? his mom had passed away when he was six. his dad left him the day after his mom’s passing. his girlfriend? he was single. well, is single actually.
 
the story of why he’d been frequenting the café for a straight three hundred and sixty-five days involved his girlfriend, if it was a title he could even bestow to that girl. whether or not they got attached, there was something he was already sure of – that she loved him, and he loved her. and then one day, she died in an accident, leaving him all alone just like that.
 
she left without warning, and he wasn’t sure how to move on or even live after the accident. he didn’t get to say bye, and he didn’t get to see her for the final time either.
 
the only picture of the two of them had been placed face-down ever since he came back home after her funeral, and realized that she would never be back, and that this house was to be lived in alone, possibly for the rest of his life.
 
frequenting the same café for one straight year came about from how he had met her for the first time ever. they had met in the same café, him walking in to order something (americano, was it?), and she exiting the café with a cup of latte in one hand. as they crossed paths, the coffee in her hand had spilt on him. he was angry since it was his favorite shirt, but the moment he looked at her, all that anger seemed to disappear.
 
he didn’t know that he would start to frequent that same café for a whole year.
 
it was his way of coping with the death, the loss, the loneliness.
 
but after three hundred and sixty-five days, he wasn’t sure if frequenting the café was really for coping with the loneliness anymore. maybe this time round, it wasn’t about coping with the loneliness, but embracing the fact that he didn't feel lonely anymore.
 
all thanks to the new girl.