Andrew wiped down the counter with deliberate strokes, even though there wasn’t much left to clean. The surface was already spotless, but the repetitive motion gave his hands something to do while his thoughts spiraled.
The café was halfway full—background music humming overhead, plates clinking, the muted murmur of conversations—but Andrew felt oddly disconnected from it all, like he was drifting just outside the glass. He used to like it here.