The Café Where We Meet Every Friday
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The Café Where We Meet Every Friday
Every Friday at four o'clock, four friends gather at a café where the light stays warm even when rain taps the windows. The place that we chose two years ago sits on a corner where two quiet streets meet.
The owner who remembers our order prepares a pot of tea that we share without counting cups. Tables that wobble slightly have been balanced with folded napkins that someone leaves under one leg. Regulars who sit nearby know that we occupy the booth where the wall displays old travel posters.
Anna, who works in a hospital that treats children, arrives first when her shift ends early. She brings stories that make us laugh about incidents that sound absurd only after the danger passes. Her bag that holds spare pens often contains sweets that she buys for young patients.
