Salt Coffee

A salt coffee. A tea. And things left unsaid.

He arrived ten minutes early. He chose the table by the window so she could see him right away. A light rain drifted down. When she walked in, he stood up, then quickly sat back down, a little awkward.

They ordered their drinks. She asked for salted coffee; he asked for tea. She recognized the scent of his tea – still jasmine tea, like five years ago.

They looked into each other’s eyes, smiled, then glanced at each other’s cups.

“You still like tea?”

“Mm. And you’ve changed? You used to drink only milk coffee.”

“I’m into salted coffee now. The salt softens the bitterness.”

He stared at her. She still had that way of meaning more than she said.

“I still love tea because of a poem.”

“A day goes by like a cup of tea; with you, its flavor lingers, warm and deep.”

“I still keep that message.”

“I stole that line online.”

“I know.”

They both laughed.

“I remember this one: a thread of sunlight, a branch of rain – enough for me to remember a whole season of love. Way more sentimental than mine.”

“Also from the internet. We’re the same.”

They smiled, the laughter shining in their eyes.

“No, we’re different. You like doing business; I’m fine with a stable job. You nearly got angry with me.”

“I was teasing. I wasn’t actually mad. You’ve always understood me. I know that.”

Rain kept falling, soft and steady. They looked out at the empty street, hands wrapped around their cups for warmth. The table was small; their hands were close. He turned his teacup; the ring on his finger felt cold. She pulled her hand back, as if she’d touched something hot. He quietly lowered his hand beneath the table.

She looked outside. The rain continued.

“Do you know the song Nocturne? Something about needing a sleepless night to empty a full heart…”

He watched her for a long moment. She looked down at her coffee.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You did nothing wrong. It was just our timing.”

She fell silent, stirring her coffee. Tiny bubbles spread and faded.

They looked up and met each other’s eyes.

She hummed a small melody. He listened intently.

“Peaceful?”

“You still remember?”

“I saw your post that day.” He turned his cup again. “I felt happy… and sad.”

She looked at him gently. He exhaled, barely audible.

The rain finally stopped. They both looked outside, then at the watches on their wrists.

His voice was low but steady. “Let me read you something.”

“I am like a cedar behind the mountain,

alone, steeped in wind, quietly drunk.

You are a demoiselle crane in passing,

leaving the sky undone behind your wings.”

She fell quiet. “That’s beautiful.”

She looked at him. “Choosing to stay, but lonely.”

“Yes. And the demoiselle crane is fragile but flies far.”

“And the one who stays… is left with an empty sky?”

He nodded. She turned to the window, her eyes glistening.

The sun broke through, lighting up the beads of water trembling on the glass.

She stood first. “I should go.”

He remained seated. “Okay.”

She walked a few steps, then turned back. “We…”

He looked up.

“Nothing.” She walked to the door.

He watched her figure fade into the distance. It was the rainy season, and she hadn’t brought an umbrella, nor a raincoat.

He turned back and called the waiter. “One salt coffee, please.”

 

* Poem excerpt by Nguyễn Thiên Ngân.

Songs mentioned in the story:

“Nocturne”, composed by Quốc Bảo, performed by Phạm Hoài Nam

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJrr0G1Nv8I&t=1s 

“Peaceful”, composed by Quốc Bảo, performed by Trần Thu Hà và Trần Tiến:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0LsLaEYf78 

mlefood – Minh Lê

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