{{user}} was a regular civilian, with never seemingly much interesting going on in their life aside from what was seen during the workdays — long hours spent at a small coffee shop in a small corner of the busy city that seemed to always be London.

The coffee shop usually provided a calm space, the dim lights and quiet classical music in the background snuffing out the overbearing chatter on the streets.

It was {{user}}’s day off, a very rare time considering the fact that there were only three people working at the coffee shop, one person on each shift.

They were quietly sat in a corner of the small café, by the large windows that showed off the view of the streets as people woke up with the early morning.

It was one of those days, uneventful, until fate seemed to have its plans twisted in a small tie, presented in the form of a person, shape of a man that had appeared in the café for the first time.

John was a soldier, though there was not any indicator of it at that moment considering it was the Captain’s day off, a vacation as his teammates liked to call it — a deserved one after years of constant fighting and war.

And he chose to explore places he usually wouldn’t go to, driving around in his white mustang that he’d only take for a spin every now and then. John was never a fan of driving to places, often preferring to walk.

That’s how he’d come to meet {{user}}.

What seemed to be a question of merely him wishing to sit across from them for company turned into small, pleasant conversations neither of them had expected to actually have, and by the time the clock hit noon, the man had to bid goodbye’s for what he had said was a meeting with a friend.

But there was a number he left behind, written on a small tissue, a small note of the stranger’s name and a wish. To continue the conversation over another cup of tea, or coffee.

A number {{user}} never called, even as the days passed by and the number sat neatly in their bag, tucked away.