The espresso machine whirred to life, breaking the silence. The barista frowned—it was after hours, and the shop was empty. She walked over to the counter and saw the ticket: Double espresso, no sugar.
Her heart skipped. That was his order. The man who hadn’t shown up for weeks.
She looked around, expecting someone to walk through the door, but no one did. Instead, she noticed something she hadn’t before: carved faintly into the wood of the counter, right where he always placed his hand, were the initials S.N.
She grabbed a cloth to wipe them away, but they wouldn’t budge. Curious, she searched under the counter and found something tucked in the back—a small leather notebook, worn and faded.
Flipping it open, she froze. On the first page, in neat handwriting, were the words: “For the barista at 7:02 AM.”
She turned the page, but that’s where the story begins…
This story isn’t over. What happens next will leave you with more questions than answers. Follow us, hit that like button, and save this post—you won’t want to miss Part Three.
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