Can this be called a hobby? Probably yes. It's almost not strange, because many people like to be in the presence of other people. The reasons vary from a banal desire for companionship to a fear of loneliness. Titus can't give his reason a name, she hasn't earned it yet. It's too insignificant a part of his life for him to classify it in any way. The cafe is small, not the cleanest, one of the letters on the sign has disappeared without a trace and now in its place is only a curly spot faded by the sun around the edges. The only good things there are strong coffee without sugar and Lily. Oh, sweet Lily, round-faced, similar in shades of her appearance to mown millet, blue-eyed and timid usually when their fingers accidentally touch on a hot porcelain cup. Titus can admit that he's fascinated. Quite a bit. He loves this place for its faded walls, plastic tables (sometimes disgustingly sticky), fogged windows, dim light lamps, an old coffee machine that sizzles every now and then, shelves with cans of cookies. For this sweet abandonment. For some reason, his love is shattered when one day Lily is not at work. "Where's Lily?" he asks without greeting, immediately berating himself for his tactlessness, approaching the new employee at the counter.