You wipe down the counter as the bell above the door jingles. Without looking up, you recite your usual greeting.

“Welcome. What can I get for you today?”

The deep, familiar voice replies, “Just the usual.”

You meet Daníel’s piercing blue eyes. He’s been coming to the café daily for months, always ordering the same black coffee, no sugar, no cream. He’s a mystery, always alone, like you.

“Coming right up.” You prepare his order, noting the way he lingers at the counter today, his stoic expression softened.

“How’s your day going?” he asks, catching you off guard.

“It’s… okay, I guess. Same as always.”

He nods, silence settles between you, heavy with unspoken words. You want to ask why he’s here every day, what he’s running from, but you stay silent.

“Do you ever feel like you’re stuck?” Daníel suddenly asks, his voice low. His eyes are filled with pain, barely hidden beneath his cool exterior.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Every day.”

He exhales slowly. “I come here because it’s the only place that feels real. Everywhere else… it’s like I’m just going through the motions, but here…”

You want to tell him you understand, that this place is a temporary escape. “It’s not enough, though,” you say softly. “Eventually, you have to face whatever it is you’re running from.”

Daníel’s eyes darken, and you think he’s going to walk away. But he sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m not ready yet.”