For those of you who are lying down but have the brains to walk.
Archipelagotimes.com – In the midst of the deadline siege, the horns of motorcycles, and rows of buildings that refuse to get tired, there is one tiny café in the corner of Jakarta that is always full of whispers and the aroma of coffee beans roasted with love and a little despair. The baristas there are not only a mixer of espresso and milk, but also loyal listeners to customers who think the corner table can hold secrets. One afternoon, as the sun was melting behind the windows and the tables were starting to empty, a barista was sweeping through the remaining tissues and spills of palm sugar, then found a piece of paper with a creak full of doubt. Nameless, unaddressed. Only blue ink shivered on recycled paper: *”Your milk coffee is sweeter than your smile. But, I still came because of his smile.”
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In a country that is said to have 1,500 types of coffee, but still imports vanilla flavors from abroad, love is still a luxury item. Data from BPS last year stated: 7 out of 10 residents of big cities more often confide in AI than in humans. Maybe it’s because love is now easier to type than to say. Or maybe because at the café table for Rp45 thousand per cup, there are class differences that cannot be mixed such as coffee and milk. A love letter in such an expensive place is not only about taste, but also about who can afford to sit and who can only imagine.
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The barista—let’s call it Mas Rio, a man with slanted bangs with a Didi Kempot playlist in his pocket—finally became a kind of Sherlock Holmes. He replayed the CCTV as if he was watching a soap opera at 5 pm, hoping that there would be a slow motion scene from the letter writer. But what was recorded were only customers in bucket hats who missed their umbrellas and were busy taking selfies with latte art in the shape of broken hearts. Nothing is clear. Nothing is certain. Like love itself.
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Who wrote the letter? Is someone who doesn’t have time to say? Or someone who is too afraid of being answered? Maybe love is indeed destined to be left behind. Such as a motorcycle key, an umbrella, or a piece of anonymous letter at the end of the twilight.
