Sophia
The café was unusually loud that morning. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates, the murmur of conversations blending with the occasional laughter, and the hiss of the espresso machine created a rhythm that had already begun to wear me thin.
I tried to keep my focus, balancing two trays in my hands as I wove through tables, forcing a smile for each customer I served.
It wasn’t glamorous, not by any means.
My back ached, my feet throbbed, and yet there was something grounding about the routine of it all.
Work kept me from thinking too much, kept me from drowning in the endless spiral of memories.
Memories of him….Memories of Erick.
I adjusted the tray on my hip and turned toward the counter to collect another order when a familiar voice tugged at my attention.
