Dear one, 

If you stay long enough, you’ll hear the story.

Not told outright.

Never like that.

It comes in fragments—between sips, between conversations, between the quiet moments when the Café seems to hold its breath.

Once, it wasn’t here.

Once, it had a beginning. A first cup poured. A first conversation that lingered longer than it should have.

A woman.

A café.

And the first time someone realised they weren’t entirely alone in the world.

That is where it started.

Or perhaps… where it crossed over.

Some stories don’t begin in books.

But if you look closely—

you might find this one here-on the bookshelf.