The café chair wobbled. She'd chosen it deliberately—the one by the window, the one no one wanted. Through rain-streaked glass, she watched a man pause at the crosswalk, checking his phone, checking again. The light changed. He didn't move.
Inside, espresso machines hissed. Conversations blurred into white noise. She opened her notebook to a blank page, then closed it. Not today.
The man was still there. Still checking. A woman with a red umbrella brushed past him, glanced back, kept walking. He looked up, seemed to consider calling out, then returned to his phone.