The crash was loud enough to jolt me from my thoughts.

I looked up just in time to see him standing behind the counter, his expression unreadable, and that guy—the same one he left with last time—rushing toward the door.

I don’t know what happened. I just know that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

The chair was knocked over, coffee splattered across the floor, and there was a tension in the air thick enough to make the entire café fall silent.

I watched as he exhaled slowly, set his jaw, and went back to work like nothing had happened. Like the crash, the mess, the way that guy stormed out didn’t matter.

But it did.

At least, it did to me.

I drag a hand down my face, tapping my pen against my notepad before finally writing:

"There was a loud crash today. I looked up just in time to see that guy from last time rushing out. What did he do?"

- J

The words feel like a demand.

I press the note down beside my empty cup, stand, and glance toward the counter one last time before heading for the door.

And as I step outside, shoving my hands into my pockets, one thought lingers—

If he won’t tell me, I’ll find out myself.