On Coffee afternoons, we please the most exquisite and refined palates, we have a diversity of delicious coffee drinks: cappuccinos, espressos, lattes, americans, macchiato and much more. We offer delicacies with art, and we prepare the perfect cup for you.

I head to the coffee shop, as I walk with lightened steps, I carry in my hands, bags with different variants of coffee beans to make combinations and experiment.

I am absorbed in my thoughts. Worried because time is running out and there are only a few days left until the announced date, I don't know what to do. I can't find a solution.

A few meters away from the café, without knowing how it happened, I lost my balance and in seconds I was on the ground. Coffee beans were rolling in all directions. I also saw office papers scattered everywhere, but those did not belong to me.

At that a voice, in a loud, brusque tone, of strong intensity uttered, "...you're...you're clueless," the stranger said. "Are you all right?" he lowered his head and muttered in annoyance. "Women" "Women." Rubbing his hand through his beard, he said, "This could have been avoided if you had been more attentive."

My knees were bleeding profusely. I wasn't thinking clearly. I needed sympathy. I looked into his eyes and replied almost in a whisper. "I'm fine, sir." And I continued. "Sorry for the mistake, it's my fault." I pointed my index finger at the cafeteria. "I work there."

To my surprise, he took me in his arms and carried me to the cafeteria. Everyone was surprised at my particular way of entering. "Dalia, what happened?" my impatient classmates demanded answers.

My eyes eagerly scanned the whole place in search of the enigmatic gentleman. But I was overcome with a deep disappointment, he was gone and I would not see him again.

So the days passed, my knees recovered and the activity in the café continued. I had a good clientele, but in spite of that, the place would soon close. My brother had not managed the finances well and had mortgaged the café. Unfortunately, I had no money to solve the situation.

The waiter arrives with the orders: "Two cappuccinos for table 8" "Three Americanos for table 5" "Two lattes and two espressos for table 9," the boy takes a breath, catches his breath and continues with the descriptions "And finally for table 12, a black coffee, like the night, strong, very hot and without sugar."

The last order puzzled me. The request was unusual in its characteristics: intense, dominant, full-bodied coffee with an imposing flavor. He was probably describing the consumer.

The waiter returned with the order from table 12 and said. "The gentleman refused to receive the coffee. He said that whoever had prepared that coffee, needed to be trained to prepare it correctly."

His hands were numb and his pulse was racing. I was obfuscated and very upset. I picked up a tray and placed the protagonist, the coffee, and went to table 12.

"Good afternoon... Ah, it's you." There he was, with a mischievous look, watching me. I was immediately intimidated. He was dressed in black, elegant and enigmatic, unflappable and unintelligible.

With all parsimony, the man took his time and replied. "Good afternoon, Miss Dalia," he waited a few seconds and continued "Already recovered, from our first meeting?," he sketched an exquisite smile and commented "Actually I intend that you accompany me to the table. I would like to dialogue, sipping my coffee "It is a pleasure, my name is Richard."

And so I did. I sat down and we spent a wonderful afternoon. Sharing and getting to know each other. And so the days passed, his visits increased in frequency, as did our outings, and love grew between us. I felt very comfortable with him. I was only anxious about the coffee shop debt and the day had finally arrived. It was time to face reality.

The date came, so I was rejected. I got ready and went with the property documents to make the official delivery to the bank.