The next morning Nora arrived at the coffee shop at 7:41—earlier than usual, though she told herself it was only because she’d woken up ahead of the alarm. The bell gave its familiar dull chime as she stepped inside. The air smelled the same: fresh grounds, faint vanilla from the pastry case, the low murmur of the espresso machine.

Jade was already at the counter, wiping down the steam wand with the same steady motions she always used. She looked up, offered the small chin-lift greeting, and started pulling Nora’s shot without being asked.

Nora slid her card across. “Black, no room.”

Jade nodded, tapped the register, then slid the cup over. No sleeve note today. No folded paper tucked underneath. Just the plain white cup, still hot.

Nora glanced toward the corner table by the window out of habit. The chair was empty. No navy sweater, no open notebook, no pen resting against knuckles. Just a clean tabletop and the morning light slanting across it.

She felt something tighten under her ribs—small, unexpected, almost embarrassing. Disappointment. Not dramatic, not heartbreak-level, just the quiet letdown of expecting one thing and finding another. She hadn’t realized she’d been expecting anything at all.

Jade caught the glance and the brief pause. She leaned one elbow on the counter, casual. “He’s not in yet today.”

Nora met her eyes. “Didn’t ask.”

“Didn’t have to,” Jade said, voice low and even. “You looked.”

Nora exhaled through her nose, half a laugh. “That obvious?”

“Only to people who watch mornings happen for a living.” Jade straightened, wiped her hands on the towel slung over her shoulder. “He comes most days, but not every day. Sometimes he’s early, sometimes late. Sometimes he skips.”

Nora nodded once. She didn’t know why the information settled her a little, but it did. “Right. Thanks.”

Jade gave the faintest shrug. “Coffee’s still on the house if you want. Leftover gesture from yesterday.”

Nora considered it, then shook her head. “I’ll pay. Habit.”

Jade rang it up without comment, handed back the card. Their fingers didn’t brush; the exchange was as smooth and practiced as always.

Nora took the cup, turned toward the door. She paused just long enough to look at the empty corner table one more time. It looked smaller without him in it. Ordinary. She felt faintly ridiculous for noticing.

Outside, the March air was sharper than yesterday. She walked to the office with the cup warming her palm, surprised at herself. Surprised that the absence of a stranger she’d never spoken to could register as anything at all. Surprised that she’d checked the window first thing. Surprised that the disappointment lingered, quiet but stubborn, all the way to the office.
She told herself it was nothing. Just the brain doing its pattern-seeking thing—same seat, same sweater, same small ritual interrupted.

That was all.

Still, when she reached her desk and set the cup down, she slipped her hand into her coat pocket. The folded note from yesterday was still there. She didn’t pull it out. She just let her fingers rest against it for a second before starting the computer.

To be continued tomorrow…