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He was always there before me.
Same table. Same hoodie. Same silence wrapped around him like armor. Table Nine had become his home—claimed not with a reservation, but with presence. The kind of quiet that made you look twice, even if he never once looked back.
I didn’t notice him at first. Not really.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1yEst4dXWl
But I noticed the routine.
He’d arrive at 7:42 AM. Never earlier. Never later. Order a black coffee with two sugars, even though he never stirred them in. Headphones in. Laptop open. Typing, pausing, typing again. Like he was writing the world into existence—then deleting it just as quickly.
I convinced myself he was probably a songwriter. Or a coder. Or one of those people who only speak to screens and not humans.
But then one morning, he looked up.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtsv4EQf1fK
And everything shifted.
It wasn’t a long glance—barely two seconds—but his eyes met mine like they’d been waiting for the chance. Calm. Focused. The kind of look that makes you forget how to breathe for a moment too long.
He didn’t smile.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡedI3Iqr0Xz
I didn’t either.
But I kept watching.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOZ3ieQvd6j
And I started arriving earlier.
Not for the coffee.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7NGTRv6JvV
Not for the seat by the window.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHZ13UT2kAj
But for the stranger who made silence feel like a language I wanted to learn.
I didn’t know his name.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdeRe5lF93x
I didn’t know his story.
All I knew was that he was always there…24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD1CZdTXKWI
and now, I didn’t want him to leave.
