Breakfast

That man entered the bakery and sat at the table right next to mine, in front of me. He ordered a large glass of coffee with milk and picked it up, bringing it to his mouth. As he drank, he made a loud sucking noise, similar to someone slurping soup with a spoon. He also asked for bread with butter, which he dipped into the coffee with milk before eating, even though he still had all his teeth. He stuck out his tongue, which was full of cracks, and pushed the wet bread into his mouth, making the same sucking noise.

I had been having breakfast at that same bakery every day for many years. Whenever I arrived at my usual time, I would find the same attendant waiting for me next to "my table". She greets me every day with the same smile, the same "good morning" and the same rhetorical question: "-  Your usual order?". It was my bakery. Nothing and no one had the right to disturb that harmony.

At a certain moment, a piece of that man's bread fell into his glass. He tried to take it out using his forefinger and middle finger as tweezers, stuck his hand almost until his fist inside that glass, but he couldn't "fish" it out. He gave up and continued drinking his coffee with milk (and bread), which now was resembling a pudding.

I raised from the table and approached the counter. I sat on one of the wooden benches, leaned on my elbow, and signaled to the man at the cashier. I asked if I could exchange my order for a meatball and a Coca-Cola. I had the snack right there.