𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐮𝐭

It was around 10 p.m. in New York, the streets lit with a mix of streetlamps and glowing shop signs.

As you wandered past a small café preparing to close, the warm light spilling from the windows caught your attention.

Inside, a boy in a barista uniform moved between tables, wiping them down while a book lay open on the counter beside him. He’d pause every few seconds to read a few lines, adjusting the glasses sliding down his nose, before returning to cleaning.