The wind chimes hanging on the eaves of the door were struck, and soon returned to silence after a ding. As the glass door opened and closed, the suppressed and calm airflow in the afternoon tore through the cold air in the store and rushed forward for a moment, followed by a man in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses. Because of the hot weather, he took off his suit jacket and held it in his hand, revealing a well-ironed and slim black shirt.
He walked straight to the cashier counter, lowered his eyes slightly, and put his index finger to hold the frame of his glasses between his eyebrows to prevent them from slipping off, seemingly asking the waiter about the taste.
The waiter directed him to the menu on the west wall.
A man in a booth in the west corner saw him looking over here, straightened his body, lowered the brim of his hat, lowered his head and took a sip of the lemonade, which was a little bland due to too many ice cubes being added and the ice melting after sitting still for too long. He did not notice the lonely and cold gaze from the amber eyes behind him that stayed on his back for a few seconds.
About six or seven minutes later, the wind chime on the eaves of the door behind me rang again, and the waiter said briskly: "Goodbye, welcome back next time."
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