“Mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the chair across from him.
He shrugs, gesturing vaguely. “Sure. It’s not like I’m waiting for anyone.”
You sit, letting the silence stretch for a beat. He’s nursing his cup of coffee, staring out the Starbucks window. There’s something in his posture—like he’s carrying a weight too big to bear alone.
“Rough holiday?” you ask, breaking the quiet.
He fidgets with his bracelet. “You could say that. Broke up with my girlfriend 3 days ago.”
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