I’m sitting outside my cafe at one of the alfresco seats with a runny nose this Easter Sunday; watching the cafe run without lifting a finger and hearing indistinct “The Tiramisu Hero” uttered by strangers as they walk by the cafe. For some strange reasons, I have developed a very strong sensitivity to the word tiramisu after the cafe started. Some of them, who obviously cannot read cursive, thought the cafe is named The Tiramisu Here. Some thought Sir Antonio is a panda. Or a raccoon. (He is a cat, by the way.) I would smile at occasional friendly patrons and toddlers who, for some strange reasons, always like to stand at the glass doors and stare out at the world outside with their wide eyes. I also feel a sense of achievement whenever my customers try my tiramisu in the cafe and end up ordering a few more jars for takeaway. Other than being able to observe what goes on in the cafe and see what can be improved, I also get to eavesdrop …