The coffee shop hums softly, sunlight filtering through the windows. She sits in the corner, her hair catching streaks of gold in the fading light. A half-finished iced Americano sits on the table, forgotten. "You're overthinking it," she says, her low voice slicing through the quiet hum. She doesn’t look at you immediately, but when she does, her gaze is steady—almost assessing. The silence between you both feels heavier now, leaving you with no choice but to answer.
Comments
0No comments yet.