For as long as he could remember

The café "Beyond the World"
For as long as he could remember, he had sat upon the same chair— A seat carved from Russian wood, beside a half-open window, A terminal for drifting smoke, and sometimes, rain.
A lifetime spent savoring the same Turkish coffee, Pondering the thought:
Had the taxi left five minutes later, There would be no world, No beyond-the-world where darkness and silence Had become pieces of him.
No hands to write the story, No love for the story itself.
No bitterness of separation, No sweetness of that forgotten moment.