Recently, a good man passed away. 

I exchanged very little words with this man (which I sincerely regret), but I knew him. 

And yesterday, I had a dream about him. 

I was sitting at a grand coffee shop (judging by the number of espresso machines behind the bar and the extravagant interior of the area), anxious. I was checking the time, tapping my foot against the floor and my finger against the table, staring at the menu in front of me. 

A c a c i a. I remember thinking what a strange name that was for a coffee shop. 

But after all, grand-looking coffee shops like this had to have a grand name, and so it was. 

There was no one there except for me, until he walked in. 

He was wearing a mustard yellow polo shirt and pants that were a shade of a crossover between khaki and grey.
He looked well and happy. 

I stood up and surprised myself as I gave him a big hug. 

We sat down and he asked how I was doing. 

"Nothing much. I've been busy with school!", I exclaimed. 

He nodded approvingly and withdrew an issue of The Economist from a black bag he had been carrying with him.
He started to flip through the pages aimlessly, and I could tell he was thinking about the importance of corporate terms.
I had seen that look on my own father's face far too often. 

"Coffee?" I asked. 

"Ahh, coffee. That's what makes the world go round for me!" 

I ordered him a cup and took a sip from mine (which was strange because coffee is not quite my cup of tea).
When it arrived, I asked him if he'd like any sugar or milk in it. 

"No. Just black. Once in a while, I tell myself to listen to my wife by not having any sugar at all".

I laughed. He was a straight-forward man.

We sat in silence for a while. We exchanged polite smiles and took occasional sips from our cups. 

"I see them a lot", he said. 

I nervously gulped and told him, "I'm sure you do".

"My wife comes out of the shower and looks at her tired face in the mirror. She's sat down on her bed and placed her face in her hands a couple of times, crying. But now, it is getting better". 

"But to you, I will not speak so much about my wife". 

I looked at him and simply nodded. I really did not know what to say. 

"I see her sitting down in smaller coffee houses a lot. She has lots of friends, you know? But she's had her fair share of looking out across the street with a book clad in her hands. Sometimes she feels her heart pulsating and she puts her hand across her chest to make herself feel better. That girl used to cover her face so much with her hair, but now she's gotten better. Her eyes are getting worse, though". 

"Everything has gotten better, I'm sure", I said. 

Before I could contain myself, I started crying. 

I apologized and kept apologizing until I could no longer breathe. 

He simply looked at me from across the table, but it seemed he knew exactly what I was apologizing for.
"It's okay. As you said, everything will be better. Life goes on, and so will you". 

The next instant, I was no longer crying. 

Instead, I was asking him about the place in which we were seated. 

"Why did you choose this place? There are so many cheaper places around here!" 

"Well, I've driven by this building quite a number of times. So I thought I'd try taking a look at what it's like on the inside". 

I shot him a glance of disapproval. 

"The coffee here is far too expensive". 

"It is no longer about the money", he said. 

Once again, we grew silent. 

He closed his eyes and smiled. He was enjoying a familiar old tune that was playing in the background, and he stayed that way until I woke up in sweat and tears.