Winter, 2014.

The sun set early, as how it always did during the winter days. The cold wind couldn’t compete with the warmth of our laughters. We walked and walked. Without realising our steps took us to a coffee shop. “Coffee?” you asked me. “I’m not really into coffee, but yeah let’s give it a shot.” I replied.

We sat outside, on a table for two. There was this lamp near our table. It casted this warm reddish light. This table would later be our favourite place to sit.

You ordered a cup of cappuccino, so did I. It was my first cup of cappuccino. I was gonna take a sip when you stopped me. “You’re doing it wrong, dear.” you told me while you took my cup.

“The first thing you have to do is pouring brown sugar on the foamed milk.” you explained as you took a sachet of brown sugar, opened it carefully and poured it down. “Make sure to pour it thoroughly!” you added.

“Then stir it carefully, starting from the top and the go deeper, deeper, and deeper.” I didn’t know you were this passionate about coffee. “Do it slowly!.” I nodded to show I understood.

“Here, give it a sip.” you returned my cup. I gave it a sip. There was this warmth, bitterness (well it’s coffee), and a bit of sweetness in a sip of coffee. I smiled to show you it tasted good. “Glad you like it.” you said.

And going to this coffee shop would later be our weekly habit. We’d order two cups of cappuccino, one for you and the other would be for me. I’d do it like how you taught me. We’d meet either on tuesday or thursday. This went on for ten months. Season changed, your blondish hair grew longer, you also got a bit taller. Everything changed, except this habit of us.

Then the time came for us to return to our respective homes. As we strolled through the places that held memories. We decided to go to that coffee shop for the last time. We discovered latter that it was called Punto D’Incontro or Meeting Point in english.

“It really is our Meeting point, isn’t it?” you asked me as you finished your last cup of cappuccino.

Yes it is, dear.