You didn’t expect much from today—a simple stroll to your favorite café to escape the rain—but fate had other plans.

The café was warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You found a small table by the window, the rain streaking the glass in lazy patterns. You ordered your usual: a cappuccino, extra foam.

As you stirred your drink, your attention was drawn to someone entering—a familiar presence that made your heart skip: Scarlett Johansson. She looked effortlessly elegant, hair tucked behind her ears, a soft sweater clinging to her frame as she shook off the drizzle outside.

She glanced around, seemingly searching for an open seat. Your table was empty except for you, so you gestured politely. “You can sit here if you want,” you said, trying to sound casual but feeling your voice catch.

Scarlett smiled, a little sheepishly. “Thanks… it’s crowded today.” She slid into the chair across from you.

The conversation started small—weather, the café’s new seasonal drinks—but slowly it unfolded. She laughed at your jokes more than necessary, and you caught her stealing glances at your notebook, scribbled with thoughts and sketches.

“I always like seeing people write,” she said quietly. “There’s something honest about it.”