The rain was falling for a long time, as if accidentally spilling a cup of warm black tea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am sitting in the Bluebird caf \u00e9 on the street corner, with a faint layer of moisture on the window glass. There is light jazz music playing in the store, and the sound of saxophones seems to be drifting from far away, or just sighing in the ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was holding a glass of oatmeal latte in my hand, with just the right temperature coming from my fingertips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sitting across from me is a man wearing a beige windbreaker. His hair was a bit messy, as if it had just been combed by the wind, and he was holding a crumpled train ticket in his hand. There is a small round table between us, on which there is a pot of unopened Campanula.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Actually, “he spoke, his voice like dry fallen leaves stepping on the snow,” what I was planning to say that day<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at him without urging. The street lamp outside the window just lit up, and a dim yellow halo shone through the rain curtain, casting a small warm color on his shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What do you want to say? “I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He smiled, with a hint of relief hidden in the fine lines at the corner of his eye: “I want to say, the sunset that day was very beautiful. Also, one of the buttons on your coat is loose<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I lowered my head and looked at my coat. The button was indeed there, firmly fastened, but the thread was a bit old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What happened later<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Later, the train arrived. “He gently placed the ticket in his hand on the table, with a place name on the ticket stub that I didn’t recognize.” I got on the train, and you stood there for a while. I thought, maybe there were some things, like this train, that missed the platform and didn’t need to chase after you anymore<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The air is filled with the roasted aroma of coffee beans and a hint of sweet cinnamon roll.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I suddenly feel that this conversation that couldn’t continue hasn’t disappeared. It just became a very light thing, like the raindrops outside the window at this moment, or the rising heat from the cup mouth, hanging in mid air and slowly dispersing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Do you know, “I whispered,” I washed that coat later<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He lifted his head, his eyes reflecting the flowing light outside the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I was washing, that button fell into the washing machine, “I stirred my coffee and looked at the center of the whirlpool,” but I didn’t pick it up. I thought, maybe it went on a trip<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. The laughter was light, but it was like pushing open a dusty window and letting light in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Traveling is great, “he said,” it’s better than staying stuck in place all the time<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The music in the store has changed to an unknown piano piece with a slow rhythm, like counting the frequency of raindrops falling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We didn’t talk again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He just sat quietly, watching the occasional passing car lights outside the window casting long shadows on the glass. I also sat quietly, feeling the process of coffee turning from hot to cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This conversation really couldn’t continue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But strangely, I don’t feel regretful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just like when you pass by a flower shop and see a bunch of blooming chamomile, you stop and look for a while, smell its fragrance, and then continue walking forward. You didn’t buy it, but there seems to be a little bit of spring flavor in your pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The rain is gradually decreasing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stood up and pushed the ticket in front of me, like leaving a small bookmark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’m leaving, “he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Well, be careful on the road<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He pushed open the door, and the wind chime on the door made a crisp sound. The cold wind carried moist air and rushed in, then closed outside as the door closed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked down at the ticket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There is no destination on it, only a handwritten and illegible line of small characters:
Wishing you a good dream tonight, even if I’m not in your dream<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I tucked my ticket into a book and finished my last sip of latte.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The street lights outside the window are still on, like stars that refuse to sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The world is big, but the dialogue is short.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But it’s okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At least on this rainy night, we shared the tenderness of the same lamp half a meter apart.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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