I stood across the street and looked to the coffee shop before me one rainy day. I was dripping wet without any umbrella and the vehicles were still on the run so I couldn’t cross the street yet. 

It was beginning to pour really hard and I wanted to walk away from my destination only a few more steps away from me, but something caught my eye. No, it wasn’t something, it was someone.

She wore a green sweater and a blue skirt that made her stand out in the crowd of pedestrians about to cross. What’s more interesting is that she was looking straight at me. I was sure because the ones who stood beside me were a bunch of elementary kids and their parents.

As the lights went red, my heart felt liked it paused. 

Then time stood still as she pulled me under her umbrella in the middle of the road. 

“You know, I was about to get some coffee,” she told me.

That's when it began. Every afternoon just after work, we’d meet inside the coffee shop. We always sat by the window facing the open road. We’d talk about anything under the sun and she'd laugh sweetly at my jokes that I think were never funny. 

She used to draw doodles on the tissue paper while waiting for me. I kept them all insde a box. It was her special collection that only I had. 

***

“Here’s your coffee, sir” 

“Thank you”

I've lost count of the times I recalled our first meeting. It was special. It was the day that changed my life; every single moment of it was sweet like how her coffee always tasted.

We used to exchange drinks before, and she'd always complain at how bitter my coffee tasted. I liked it that way. Then she told me the words “bitter” and “sweet” still go together and make a nice combination.

Does she still think so now?

I don’t know.

But I know for sure that the reason she still sits by the window fronting the open road all alone is that she's waiting for someone.

Someone she couldn't force herself to remember.

I am forgotten and I have to admit it hurts to see her again and again.

“Are you Miss Park Ji Yeon?” I once asked, heart aching at the sight of her.

“Yes, I am,” she answered.

“I am doing a survey, and the lady at the counter told me you’re a regular here. Is that true?” 

She smiled at me.

“Yes, it is,”

“Then what coffee do you usually order?”

“Espresso,”

It was always the same answer. And I'd ask her why but I still get the same answer.

“It reminds me of happiness. I don’t know why but it sure feels that way, is it still part of your survey?”

I'd always say yes, stand up to make a bow, and take my leave.

But these days it hasn't been like that anymore. I’m happy I get to see her a few seats away. She still doodles on tissue papers though I’m not there to collect them any longer.

***

“And then he left just like that when I gave him the cake he ordered,” the waiter finished his story to the new lady in the counter.

“Wow, I can’t believe someone with that sickness exists. I thought it only happened in movies. Does he still come?”

“Of course, every Thursday in the afternoon. You always miss him because you have class,”

“But you know, when I cleaned up that girl's table one time, I checked out the writings on her tissue paper,” the waiter continued on.

“What does it say?”

“Myungsoo, the guy's name. The bad thing is that she'd still forget,”

“But she never forgets how his coffee tasted, I think it's still sweet,”

“Yeah, bittersweet.”

A Fiviishmee Fanfic