Stranger's Cafe (Chanyeol)

First

There is something about the cafe simple exterior that had me drawn in from some reason. It's nothing special really, same old block wood motif with brown walls, different kind of paintings on the wall, creating a nice abstract feeling of the place.

It's not crowded, only a few people who go in and out, the soft jingle of the bells creating a mellow hum in the busy street of Hongdae.

I got inside, the smell of coffee hitting my nose instantly. The smell is comforting and peaceful to my somewhat tired brain.

"Hi, welcome to Stranger's Cafe, what can I get for you?" Said the petite woman at the counter. She had an easy smile on her lips.

I'm feeling slightly bitter over my job which I am just fired for and so I opted for something bitter. "Americano please"

She punched in a few more before giving me the receipt and asking me to wait for it for a while.

I wondered around the cafe. There's a guy hovered over his laptop, couple of teenagers having an intense game of cards, a girl reading a book by the window. It's nothing unusual. I sat at the far end right of the cafe.

I drum my fingers on the hardwood table, struggling to think of what will I do with my life. I just lost my job, my little brother needed help and there was no way in hell I'd ask my parents for money.

Ever since the day my parents disowned my brother for being a special child, they disowned me too. At the age of nineteen years old with my brother sixteen, we left the house and for four years, I had been the one taking care of him; I can't leave him, not in his state. I can't turn my back to him because he's my brother, special or not. I love him and I'd rather suffer than see him get away from me. And I don't want to give my parents the satisfaction of me having to ask them for money just because I can't handle him anymore.

I can handle him. I have to.

I breathed out hard, trying to control the prick in my eyes. I can't cry in a public place.

I opened my eyes and the woman sitting by the window is now walking towards the other side of the cafe, in her hand is a paper. She opened one of the panel woods in the cafe and I could see more notes in there, kept and hidden in the eyes of the people inside the cafe. I wouldn't even have noticed it if I didn't look at what she was doing.

"Fascinating isn't it?" The guy murmured in front of me, scaring me out of my wits. He handed me my drink and I thank him quietly.

"Wh-what are those things?" I asked timidly, gesturing at the wall which contained the letters.

"It's a letter box in here I guess. You write your problems in a piece of paper, put them there and try to hope that the same could be happening to your problems. You don't have to go by your name, mostly people who write their gives off nicknames."

I looked up at him in interest. "Why would you write names?"

"Some people answer back to your problems. Like try to give you a solution. We collect it every day, and then give the letter to that person. It's a kind of pen pal if I must say except you're not miles away from the people you're talking to." He smiled kindly at me. "Sometimes people find it easy to vent out feelings to a total stranger."

The story is indeed fascinating. There is something alluring at the idea of tucking away my problems at the cold dingy place, even in just a piece of paper.

"Is your owner aware of this?" I asked, my fingers traced the cup rim.

He shook his head. I just noticed it but he was handsome, wearing a simple polo with apron over him.