The aroma of freshly brewed coffee swarmed the little coffee shop, mingling with the faint scent of pastries baking in the backroom. You were standing behind the counter, wiping down the counters and appliances for what felt like the fifth time that day while casting furtive glances at the clock on the wall. You loved the solitude, but your thoughts often got lost around the same time every day. Five o'clock. That was the time you eagerly looked forward to—a bright spot in the quietness.

A soft ding announced the arrival of a customer. You straightened up from your task, wiping your hands on your apron and turning your attention towards the door. As you looked up, you were greeted by the sight of Martin stepping inside. He wore the same tired look everyday. But he managed a smile when approaching the counter.

"Good morning," he greeted, his voice warm against the quiet hum of the café.