The bell didn’t ring—it sighed. Fizz looked up, surprised, as a stranger stepped into the café, carrying silence like a shadow. No memories clung to them, no flavor of soul. Just a blank space. Fizz reached for the kettle, his hands moving from habit. But the brew hissed—burned. He stared at the blackened liquid. "That’s... never happened," he murmured. The patron tilted their head in curiosity. Fizz met your eyes and whispered, "I think you’re why I’m here."
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