The afternoon feels more melancholic because the sky is still grey. I walk down in a quiet streets as I stepped out of the hospital. The air was crisp, and the remnants of snow crunched beneath my boots. Clutching two tuna sandwiches from the convenience store, I wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood adjacent to the cafe. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of comfort, yet I felt a pull towards the unfamiliar.
As I meander, a faint glow caught my eye—a dim light emanating from a lantern in a nearby storefront. The building is unassuming, its façade blending seamlessly with the neighboring structures. If not for the modest "Open" sign hanging askew in the window, I might have passed it by without a second glance.
Curiosity piqued, I push open the door, a soft chime announcing my entrance. The interior is bathed in a warm, golden light, the source of which is a series of antique lamps scatter throughout the space.
