time, sat by the window, and ordered black coffee with no sugar.
For the first two months, I simply called him “Mr. William.”
He was quiet and polite. He never tried to impress me. He asked about university, the books I was reading, and why I worked so many hours.
One afternoon I laughed and said,
“You’re the only customer who asks me about books instead of the Wi-Fi password.”
He smiled.
After that, we began talking more.
One rainy evening after my shift, my bus was nearly forty minutes late. I was standing outside when William appeared.
He didn’t offer me money or a ride.
He simply stood beside me and held half his umbrella over my head.
We talked for almost two hours.
That was how everything began.
Three months later, I realized I had started waiting for his phone calls.
And that terrified me.
William was 99.
