A single rose, waiting

It was the first time I entered that cafee on Old Street, as usually, I go into the more popular café across the road, where I had a few great meals already.

But that morning someone gave me an appointment in there, so I got in and waited for her to arrive.

My eyes fall on a table nearby, where a red rose was waiting for someone to come. I decided to come back, more often to this old man of Italian origin working all alone in his shop.

His espresso was strong, he let me even wait as long as I wanted without rushing me to order, and he has put that rose, one rose on each table in fact. A tiny attention can go long way.