Late-night Café

At 11 p.m. on a Friday, the city’s café is still full of people.

Some are racing deadlines, some are chatting, and others just don’t want to go home yet. The light is yellow, the music is soft, and the espresso machine becomes background white noise.

I like watching these strangers. Each carries their own story and worries. For now we share the same space without knowing one another, and that distance somehow feels comforting.

Rain starts outside.