An older gentleman sits in the dimly lit booth far out of the greasy stares of those in the cafe.  The place had been here for too long, just like the old man, he thought.  He found his mind wandering to the similarities between himself and these ages edifices that still cling to some fleeting need for preservation.  He had lost that will long ago, in a life that he had left in search of more wonderous things.  But, something inside called him to his death, a little voice.  The same little voice that talked him into everything he did.
  The voice sounded much like his own, but with a darker twinge to it.  Perhaps it was merely something dreamnt up in his mind, or, the more fruedian idea, that it was his id speaking to his primal nature.  That is why he referred to the voice as Id.  He thought it was funny when he thought it up, but the voice didn't laugh.  It just went on a rampage, digging up old and half forgotten memories from ages long passed.  Which is what brought the man here tonight, to answer the call of those lost years.
  As he sat in the semi-darkness of the light dangling above the table, he peered into his half empty cup and remembered that silly little pseudo-philisophical jerk who tried to impress upon everyone that his mind was far more developed than theirs.  His name was Daniel.
  Daniel was a young man when he came across the gentleman in the dusty stacks of the philosphy wing of the public library.  Very few libraries dedicated entire wings to such a topic, and most never ventured there in fear of being attacked by some pyschotic transient or overzealous free thinker.  So, the solitude called to him, much like Id, who had said that it wasn't a good idea to go there.  No women would be there, so he wanted to go to a bar.  Of course, after meeting Daniel, he had the feeling that everyone who spent five minutes with him needed a dozen drinks and a pool cue at the ready.
  Daniel appeared one rainy day in June, the rain being the only cause for his appearance, though he would argue differently.  His houndstooth glasses fogged in the climate change from the muggy outdoors to the freezing indoors.  The newspaper he had bought moments ago began to sag and tear in his hand.  The ink rubbed off onto his fingertips as he crumpled up the soggy paper and dropped it dramatically into the trash can.  It made a loud, wet thump as it met the empty bottom.
  He scanned the sitting area for any new faces, and came upon the old man's shadowy figure towards the back of the room.  A sly and crooked smile crept along his face as he stepped slowly toward this mystery man.  As he came closer, he noticed something strange about the light around the man, he had realized it was a man when he saw the beard as he passed the paperback turnstyle.  The light seemed dim around him, and it only got dimmer as he got closer.  When he took a seat just one table over, the man was cloaked in shadow while the light above him burned brightly.  But, none of the signs that should have told him "turn away" were heeded, maybe his Id was out to lunch and he was forced to make a decision on his own.  Too bad for Daniel.
  As that day grows clearer in his mind, the waitress quietly refills his cup and scurries back into the light of the counter.  She has been here long enough to know not to distrub the man in the back, and he appreciated her for it.  That's why he always tipped generously, even if it was only for a cup of coffee......