The Bench We Never Sat On

Every morning, he buys coffee from his favorite shop. He always chooses the window seat because from there, he can see her - the girl with soft eyes and tangled hair, always scribbling something in her journal at the bench just outside.

She never looked up much. She was always writing. Always alone. But she had this quiet presence that made him feel... calm. Like the world paused a bit when she was there.

He started going earlier just to see her. He timed his coffee runs to match when she'd be there.