Six men in their seventies and eighties take a table next to mine in the Kolding Caffe. Judging by their clothing, their pensions are ample enough. When the waiter comes, they start ordering all sorts of coffee. One of them is quiet. “What would you like?” the waiter turns to him. “Give me,” the man starts hesitantly, “coffee with…” His friends start laughing. “Whipped cream?” suggests one. He shakes his head. “Chocolate?” suggests another. He shakes his head again. “Brandy?” suggests the third. “No, no,” he stammers, “my wife drinks it every single day…” “Milk?” suggests yet another. “Well,” he joins the laughter, “give me coffee with milk!” When the waiter departs, the guessing game continues, but without any success. As it turns out, the man is new to the company. They regularly meet to have coffee together. The youngest is seventy-eight and the oldest eighty-six. It is a joy to sit next to them. They tease each other all the time and they laugh a lot. Forgetfulness is the way of life. Infirmity, too. Old age is fine with them. Even death is just a laugh.