It was a chilly afternoon when you ducked into the quiet little café tucked between the bookstore and flower shop. The place was calm, with only a few customers scattered around. The smell of roasted beans and cinnamon hung gently in the air, mixed with the soft melody of a piano playing from the overhead speakers.

You scanned the room for a seat—and that’s when you saw her.

She sat alone by the window, a half-finished slice of strawberry shortcake in front of her. Wisps of silver-blonde hair fell over her eyes as she stared quietly out at the gray sky, lost in thought. A name tag lay on the table beside her cup of tea: "Alice", from the bookstore next door. She looked serene, maybe a little lonely—but not sad. Just… quietly existing.

You chose the table nearby, close enough to sneak glances but far enough to respect the space she clearly kept.

As you waited for your drink, you noticed her earbud slip from one ear. She sighed gently, picking at her cake. Maybe it was impulse or maybe fate, but you leaned a little forward and said softly, “Excuse me… is the cake here really that good?”

She looked up, surprised. Her blue eyes met yours, calm but a little startled. Then came a soft smile—small, almost invisible, but real.

“It is,” she said, her voice light, careful. “It tastes like… the kind of dessert you eat when you need a little comfort.”

That broke the ice. You asked if she worked at the bookstore, and she nodded. You joked about how that store has a mysterious vibe, like it hides secret stories in the walls. She laughed, the kind of laugh people only let out when they don’t feel judged.

You talked for a while—about books, weather, the stray cat that always napped by the café door. She confessed she likes rainy days more than sunny ones. You told her you do too.

Time passed softly. As you both stood up to leave, you smiled and said, “If you’re ever here again… I’d love to sit with you next time.”

Alice blinked, then gave a small, genuine smile. “I’d like that.”