In the neighborhood of San Isidro, among cobblestone alleys and balconies filled with bougainvillea, lived Don Salvador. He was 84 years old and had a small café that he called The Corner of Time. It wasn't a prosperous business, but he didn't need it: that place was his refuge and his bridge to the past.
Every morning, Salvador opened the doors before the sun peeked out. The aroma of freshly ground coffee mixed with the smell of the damp wood he used to heat the water. On a table by the window, there was always a cup ready. Not for a customer... but for his wife, Clara, who had left 12 years ago.
—If I don't make it, it seems the day doesn't start —he said, caressing the edge of the empty cup.
The young people of the neighborhood visited him to hear his stories: how he met Clara at a village party, how they saved for years to open the café, how she drew flowers on the walls and served cookies with a smile that could soothe any sadness.
One winter afternoon, a young man who Salvador did not know arrived at the café. He carried a guitar and a tired look. He sat down without asking for anything. Salvador, as always, served him coffee. The young man drank in silence, until suddenly he said:
—My grandfather told me about this place. He said that here he learned that coffee is not taken to wake up... but to remember.
Salvador smiled, and without realizing it, he began to tell the story of his life. The young man listened attentively, and before leaving, he sang a song he had composed that very afternoon, inspired by what he had just heard.
—Thank you —said the old man—. You have brought music to these walls again.
Months passed, and The Corner of Time began to fill with young musicians, painters, poets. The café became a place where Clara's memory lived in every story and in every sip.
One morning, Salvador left two cups on the table by the window. One for Clara... and another for himself. He looked at the sky, took a deep breath, and said softly:
—Today, my love, we really did have coffee together.
That was the last day they saw him open the café. But since then, the entire neighborhood keeps the tradition: every July 15th, a cup is served on the table by the window, so that Don Salvador and Clara can continue to have their date.
Because there are loves that neither time... nor absence... can erase.
