The Late-Night Café

Friday night at eleven, the city café is still full of people.

Some are rushing to meet a deadline, some are chatting, some just don’t want to go home. The lights are warm, the music is soft, and the sound of the espresso machine becomes background white noise.

I like observing these strangers. Each has their own story, their own troubles. In this moment we share the same space, yet we don’t know each other. This sense of distance is oddly comforting.

It’s starting to rain outside.