Three hours ago, in Iceland.
The morning had just passed, and a slightly cold wind blew from the distant mountains, making the flying birds take to the sky.
In the small town, the door of the café was pushed open, making a jingling sound.
The owner at the counter looked up, adjusted his glasses, and saw a familiar customer.
Outside the door, in the slight drizzle, a man with round tortoiseshell glasses put away his umbrella, placed it on the rack, and after treading on the mat to shake off the water, he walked in and sat next to the bar.
After removing his hat, his graying hair was revealed.
"Good morning, Mr. Lu."
Holding a coffee pot, the owner walked over, poured him a steaming cup of coffee to dispel the chill: "What will you have today, the usual?"
"Yes, and another pack of toast, to go."
The man called Mr. Lu appeared slightly aged, but his specific age was indiscernible. He just held the coffee cup, took a small sip, and waited quietly.
