He was always there before me.
Same table. Same hoodie. Same silence wrapped around him like armor. Table Nine had become his home—claimed not with a reservation, but with presence. The kind of quiet that made you look twice, even if he never once looked back.
I didn’t notice him at first. Not really.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYkXwK29sNR
But I noticed the routine.
He’d arrive at 7:42 AM. Never earlier. Never later. Order a black coffee with two sugars, even though he never stirred them in. Headphones in. Laptop open. Typing, pausing, typing again. Like he was writing the world into existence—then deleting it just as quickly.
I convinced myself he was probably a songwriter. Or a coder. Or one of those people who only speak to screens and not humans.
But then one morning, he looked up.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqtIy1aUOkv
And everything shifted.
It wasn’t a long glance—barely two seconds—but his eyes met mine like they’d been waiting for the chance. Calm. Focused. The kind of look that makes you forget how to breathe for a moment too long.
He didn’t smile.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9ilMM3f9bX
I didn’t either.
But I kept watching.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoWwXxiyhtz
And I started arriving earlier.
Not for the coffee.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVicTUfOwFM
Not for the seat by the window.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNWjPUPAHme
But for the stranger who made silence feel like a language I wanted to learn.
I didn’t know his name.118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRYM2vM5ZEB
I didn’t know his story.
All I knew was that he was always there…118Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj9GG1Wjq3q
and now, I didn’t want him to leave.
and then Add to home screen.