It wasn’t the kind of café that invited conversation. Concrete walls, humming fluorescent lights, the smell of burnt espresso. The tables were too close together, and the music was always just a bit too loud to think clearly.

You’d come for a quiet moment. Coffee, maybe a bite. You didn’t expect to sit across from anyone. But he was already there, hunched over a sketchpad at the corner table, sleeves rolled, pencil moving in quick, efficient strokes. He didn’t look up when you sat nearby. Didn’t flinch when someone bumped the back of his chair. Just kept drawing, occasionally erasing, then shading again.

Eventually, your curiosity won out. “Are you drawing people?” you asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

He didn’t answer at first. Then, quietly, “No. Cities.”

You glanced at the pad. It was a building — not one that existed, you realized, but one that could. “You an architect?”

He shook his head. “Urban planner. Kind of. Mostly I just... try to imagine places that don’t hurt people.” He finally looked up, met your eyes, just for a second, and gave the faintest smile. Like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.