Just walked to the door and smelled the smoke, and the heart was not good. Sure enough, the seats were equipped with ashtrays, and the uncle in the corner was leaning against the sofa and leaning against the wall to give himself a cigarette. There is no daily coffee in the store, but there are daily desserts. Today is cheesecake. The soft, slightly sour taste of the half-cooked cheese dissolves the sweetness of the cheese. There are three kinds of coffee, and the unexpected softness of the store's name. If, I mean, if, if no one smokes. Then you can sit in a coffee shop with old-fashioned telephones and cash registers, a nicely-colored piano and dressing table at the door, a flute on the wall, and a coffee and jazz music in the dim light.