Kuromoji-ya Cafe ①

IIt has been a while since I visited Fukuoka city to hang around. It was getting hot and I wanted to have a parfait in the city, so I did some research beforehand." I visited Kuromoji-ya, attracted by one of  the customer’s comments that said "an adult's hideout" and the photo of a Japanese-style parfait served horizontally like a pudding à la mode. As soon as I turned into an alley on the left, I came upon a private house having a calm garden with plants and trees, which seemed to be in a different time and space; nevertheless, it is in the center of the city.
　As I was  about to open the front door, I saw a sign near the door handle that read 'Smoking allowed'. I was a little put off by the idea of a smoking shop in this day and age, but it was hot and I wanted a parfait, so I ended up going in. The interior is decorated in a black base and has the atmosphere of a bar, with a relaxed, modern Japanese-style space. I am hit by the smell of cigarettes as soon as I enter. There was already a smoker. A male customer was reading a book while smoking alone. Within seconds of entering, the smell of cigarettes, which I don't like, made my mood drop dramatically. It was my fault because I entered the restaurant even though I recognised that smoking is allowed. Thinking that this was just another experience, I took a seat in the corner opposite a male customer who smoked.
　To get rid of the cigarette smell, I ordered a coffee, which I hadn't planned on. After asking for it to be brought to me first, I ordered the Kuromitsu Kinako Parfait, which I was looking for. The coffee arrives soon after. The coffee cup  looks black, rugged natural texture and a lovely shape that fits in both hands, but the savoury smell of coffee poured into the coffee cup  eases my nerves. I sip it straight away and am impressed by its refreshing flavour with little bitterness, although I usually tend to add milk to my straight coffee. The male customer took out another cigarette, I wonder how many he had had. Oh no, well I'll have to eat my parfait and leave early, I can't wait for it to come, I said in my mind, pulling out my mobile phone.

"---. Well, there used to be quite a bit of neighbourly interaction."
"Yes, you really don't know your neighbours nowadays."
Two ladies, who appeared to be in their 70s or so, were having a lady’s talk instead of 'girls' talk', as we normally say in Japan,  in the nearest left-back four-seater far from mine. As their speech is soft and their dialect is not so strong, I got the impression that they are probably madams who came from other prefectures as brides and have been living in the city of Fukuoka for a long time. I, living in the countryside, do not have so many opportunities to listen to the stories of city-dwelling madams. I listened to them because they sounded interesting.

"When I was a child, usually, even in a place like this street, everyone knew each other.” the auntie started talking. “It was like ‘please give me some sweets.’ ‘Oh no. I know, I know,YouI'll just wait a bit. I'll bring something to eat, ok here it is. Eat!." And what else, ah, adults in the neighbourhood were saying,’ What happened? If there's anything wrong, you can always tell me.’ It was a mutual kind of help and/or compassion like taking after each other, and you could see them talking to each other like that. I loved that!"
She has quite an accent, doesn't she? I wonder if she is from this county. It was getting more and more interesting.