Café

November 18, 2012 - Peppermint Mocha

From the old book I was reading, fell a single letter blurred with age. It was a pitiful letter with just the name of the recipient attached; no address or stamp. I had lent him this book six years ago, and his mum had just sent it back to me earlier on this morning. It was strange, not only because of the fact that I had lent it to him six years ago, but the fact that he had never ever said a single word every time I pestered him. How was his mother able to find my address, I ask myself as I read the note.

“How are you? Have you grown? Do you still remember me? I’m sorry, I feel like a fool as I really don’t know how to write letters. And even more as I don’t really know how to write in English properly.” The letter reads. I can’t read the rest of the letter, even though I wish to, because the ink has been smudged against the pages of the book. He should’ve waited for the fresh ink to dry.

My name is written on it in Hangul and in cursive in English. I chuckle to myself and flip over the note and see when it was written. In messy Hangul, it reads the 8th of November, year 2006. I was twelve at the time, and the borrower of the English book was thirteen. I didn’t know how to speak in Korean properly yet, due to being a Canadian-born Korean.

But now, I’m an eighteen year old who lives in Korea and who knows how to speak in Korean. I flip through the pages of said book, which is entitled “The Hobbit” by J.R.R. Tolkien. The borrower of the book was a foreigner in Canada, where I had previously lived. I lived in Canada up until I was sixteen, and travelled around Korea, finally settling there to complete my high school years.

I had lent him the book, as he was so desperate to read it, not even waiting to buy the Korean version of it. He had struggled with the words, and I helped him out a lot. But before he could return it, he had suddenly gone back to Incheon. I had lost complete contact with him, which was a sort of shame, as he was also my best friend. It was also a shame, as “The Hobbit” had been my favourite book, and I had to buy another copy when I was fourteen.

I hold the old copy in my hands; it feels more warm and soothing, as opposed to the newer copy that I had bought four years ago. The cover is tattered, nearly falling off. The pages are not yellowing, but turning into a shade of brown. The book is completely dusty, but I still love it. I love old books, especially if they really do look old.

“Here’s your drink, Miss Dae.” The part time worker says; serving me my usual drink; an orange and cream topped with espresso. “Have a nice day, Miss.”

By saying such words all out of the blue, my thoughts are interrupted, and I am left to collect them on my own again. It was unintentional, so I couldn’t get mad at him for it, like I usually would if it were my friends. They knew when I was caught in deep thought, so they should know better than to suddenly say something. But this server was a few weeks old, and didn’t know when I was thinking really hard, unlike the other servers, who have seen my usual facial expression whenever I was.

“Thank you, Him chan.” I reply, taking the warm drink out of the serving tray. He leaves; a huge smile plastered onto his face. I think it was his first time to be thanked. I sigh; customers need to be nicer, really.

I try and recollect my thoughts. Where was I? Oh yes, the book; The Hobbit. It was a really nice book, full of action. I love action, in case you didn’t know...

What was the borrower’s name, again? Honestly, I suck at remembering names, only faces. It tears me to pieces sometimes, as I may run into a new friend at the mall or on the way to the doctor’s, and I’d only have to reply with a “Hi,” instead of replying with “Hello” and the person’s name, and then I am left struggling, the thought of “Who was that person I ran into at the mall? What was her name?” lingering in my mind.