The wooded path was still wrapped in the hush of early morning, a thin veil of mist lifting as the sun broke through the branches. Golden beams slanted across the leaves, catching on Max’s fur until the retriever seemed to glow as he trotted ahead, tail swinging like a metronome.

Matthew walked with his hands in the pockets of his tweed coat, his steps unhurried. He loved this hour—the world not yet crowded, the air crisp and smelling faintly of pine and earth. Max stopped often, nose buried in the undergrowth, before bounding back to Matthew’s side as if to check that he hadn’t disappeared.

By the time they reached the little café on the corner, the sun had climbed high enough to warm Matthew’s face. The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the scent of roasted coffee beans spilling out to meet him.

“Morning, Matthew,” the barista called, already reaching for the pot she knew he favored.

He smiled faintly, tugging off his gloves. “Morning. The usual, please.”

Outside, one of the staff had already set down a water bowl near the café’s bench. Max loped over, slurping noisily before sniffing at the jar of dog treats on the counter inside. Matthew chuckled under his breath. “You’re spoiled, you know that?”

Cup in hand, he settled into his usual seat by the window, Max stretched out at his feet with a satisfied sigh. Sunlight pooled across the table, catching on the steam rising from his coffee. For a moment, Matthew simply sat and let the warmth of the cup seep into his palms, watching the quiet bustle of the street come alive.

It wasn’t much, but mornings like this stitched his days together—the dog at his side, the familiar greetings, the ritual of a good cup of coffee. A rhythm that felt steady, almost safe.

And somewhere, deep inside, he wondered what it would be like if one day, someone was sitting across from him at that little café table.