576Please respect copyright.PENANATMgmLPK3Q8
Talia poured coffee like her body was running on autopilot.
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Customer. Mug. Smile. Repeat.
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The diner buzzed around her like a film she was watching from the outside. She could hear laughter, clinking dishes, the cook shouting out orders. But it didn’t reach her.
576Please respect copyright.PENANACDLkV0MqEM
She barely spoke unless someone asked for something. Even then, it felt like moving underwater.
576Please respect copyright.PENANAqWFlhc7Hpr
Nobody noticed. Or maybe they did and just didn’t care.
576Please respect copyright.PENANABy3AaBVXFK
Except Jonas.
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He always sat in booth three, always ordered black coffee and a grilled cheese. And always said, “Thanks, Talia,” like her name meant something.
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Today, he looked at her longer than usual.
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“You okay?” he asked.
576Please respect copyright.PENANA1NbG5RLG4O
She blinked. A full second passed before she gave him her usual answer:
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“Yeah.”
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He didn’t push. Just nodded.
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But after he left, she found a napkin folded under his coffee cup.
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It said:
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“You don’t look fine. If you ever want to talk, I’m always in booth three.”
576Please respect copyright.PENANANgXwh4NTeN
576Please respect copyright.PENANARmXIXaENga
576Please respect copyright.PENANAlxUKDMsxAq
She didn’t know whether to cry or tear it up.
576Please respect copyright.PENANACG3iCtWcw9
So she put it in her pocket and kept pouring coffee.
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