"One Coffee, Two Stories "
"The Spaces Between Two Sips" The café was almost empty when I entered. Outside, the evening was slowly losing its color. The sky had turned pale grey, and tiny drops of rain rested on the window like unfinished sentences. Inside, the lights were warm, the music was soft, and the smell of freshly ground coffee filled every quiet corner. I chose the table beside the window—the one with two chairs. There was nothing unusual about choosing it. At least, that was what I told myself. I placed my phone on the table, removed my jacket, and ordered a cup of coffee. The person behind the counter asked whether I wanted anything else. “No, just one coffee,” I replied. The word one sounded strangely loud. A few minutes later, the cup arrived. Steam rose from it, curling gently into the air before disappearing. I wrapped both hands around the cup, not because it was cold, but because warmth ...
