Life is rude.
It doesn’t slow down because your heart is tired.
The café still opens at seven. Coffee still needs grinding. Milk still spills. Customers still want extra foam like their day depends on it.
And maybe it does.
So I show up.
Every morning.
Smile. Unlock the doors. Check stock. Nod at suppliers. Laugh when someone tells a bad joke across the counter.
I am very good at pretending now.
Too good.
The café smells like cinnamon and coffee and paper from new books. My books. Our library section is full almost every day now. Students curled up in corners. Office people pretending to read while scrolling through their phones. Couples whispering like the world outside doesn’t exist.
I built this.
I did.
Sometimes pride rises in my chest so suddenly it scares me.
Then the do
