I notice it the second I sit down.

A cookie, neatly wrapped in a small napkin, placed next to my coffee like it belongs there.

I glance toward the counter, my fingers hovering over the cup. I didn’t order this.

He’s busy, moving between customers, taking orders, pouring drinks. But I catch a glimpse of him anyway—the same tired eyes, the same quiet focus.

I smirk, shaking my head as I reach for my notepad.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just something they’re doing today, a little extra for customers. But still, it makes me wonder.

My pen glides across the post-it before I can think too much about it.

"A cookie with my coffee? Nice touch. Now, if only it had your number on it."

- J

I press the note down beside my cup, stand, and slip on my coat.

This time, as I step outside, I let myself glance back—just once. Just enough to see if he’s noticed.

And maybe it’s just my imagination, but I swear, for the briefest second—

He almost smiles.