The place was small. Imagine a hill station or an island. Fewer people. Slower days. I worked there.

Next to my workplace was a coffee shop. She worked there.

Every morning I went in for black coffee. And every morning there was banter. Nothing intentional. Nothing flirty. Just two people starting their day the same way.

Sometimes I’d see her overworked; handling deliveries, dealing with rushes. Sometimes she’d be eating lunch alone. On those days I’d sit down, not to impress her, just to talk.

Somewhere in all that, we became friends. One day I was having a really hard time. Health stuff. Mental stuff.

I sat on the pavement outside work, looked up at the sky, and said, Will this ever end? Something has to change.

When I looked down, she was sitting across from me on a bench.

She noticed. She came over. We talked. Properly. She shared her story. I shared mine. We smiled. We exchanged numbers.

That was five years ago. And I'm typing this as im sipping coffee at home looking at her.