Poured by hand.

A kissaten is Japan's old kind of cafe — decades old, usually family-run, dim wood and warm light, the opposite of a chain. No wifi, no rush, no one clearing your table. You come to slow down: a cream soda in a glass heavier than your phone.

This one is Negura, down a Shimokitazawa back alley with no sign. English chairs, an old cassette radio, mirrors saved from a salon that closed nearby — a room half kissaten, half a place that no longer exists.

Twenty kinds of soda, poured by hand. Regulars come back. I put my phone away, sat, and watched the ice melt for twenty minutes.