Elliot woke before dawn.
Again.
No alarm. No dream. No reason.
The darkness outside matched the one inside.
He dressed in silence, skipping breakfast like always.
He didn't need food. He needed time to pass.
Out the door. Cold wind. Quiet streets.
He bought a canned cold coffee from a machine near the station.
Held it. Didn't open it. Just walked.
Work was the same grey blur as always — keyboards, artificial smiles, the hum of machines pretending to be people.
By the time the office lights dimmed, it had started to rain again.
He didn't want to go home.
The apartment wasn't a home anymore. Just a place full of dust and silence.
Instead, he wandered. The sky wept.
He passed shuttered stores, flickering signs, until something warm caught his eye — a small café, nestled between a laundromat and a pharmacy. The sign above the door read:
ANECHOIC
He stepped in.
Warm light. Wooden floors. Soft jazz playing low.
"Welcome," came a voice — gentle, like someone trying not to disturb a sleeping bird.
Elliot blinked. The voice belonged to a young woman behind the counter, apron slightly wrinkled, name tag shining faintly under the lamp above her:
June
She didn't smile too much. Just enough.
He nodded once and sat at the last table in the far corner, near the fogged-up window.
When she approached, she waited a moment before asking, "What can I get you tonight?"
Elliot looked outside — rain cascading down the glass like falling time.
"…Espresso. Just a small one."
She nodded and walked away.
He stared blankly out the window.
It was peaceful in a heavy way.
But then, a sudden shuffle of shoes — and—
Crash.
Hot liquid splashed across his coat and lap.
"Oh my god, I—I'm so sorry!" June gasped, eyes wide. "I didn't see—are you okay?!"
She panicked, reaching for a towel, already kneeling beside him and dabbing clumsily at the spill.
Elliot stared at her. Not angry. Not anything.
He said softly, "No… never mind. Sometimes things are just meant to happen."
She paused mid-dab. Blinked.
"…Still. I'm really, really sorry. Please let me fix it."
She disappeared behind the counter again.
A minute later, she returned — holding a fresh cup of espresso and a slice of cheesecake.
She placed both gently on his table.
"This one's from me. For the accident."
Then, without asking, she sat down beside him — just close enough to share warmth, just far enough not to invade.
Elliot felt… strange. The smell of coffee, the soft jazz, the weight of her presence beside him — it pressed against something old in his chest.
He took a sip, eyes still fixed on the window.
"…Don't you have work?"
June shrugged.
"There's no one else here. And it's just my part-time job anyway."
She extended her hand gently.
"I'm June. June Ericson. What about you?"
Elliot hesitated. Words didn't come naturally.
After a few seconds, he said,
"Elliot Grey. I'm an ordinary salaryman."
He paused, eyes lowering to the half-drunk espresso.
"If you ask my age… I don't know it either."
June smiled softly, tilting her head.
"Ohhh… You seem kinda mysterious, Mr. Ordinary Salaryman."
She extended her hand again — but not for a shake. Just to be held in the space between them.
"Well… nice to meet you."
Elliot stood up abruptly.
"I should go. How much was it?"
June shook her head kindly.
"It's on me. Really."
He looked at her for a moment — as if trying to read something he'd forgotten how to understand.
Then, quietly, he nodded.
The rain had stopped.
Outside, the sky was painted in colors he couldn't name — bruised purple, bleeding gold, broken orange.
He walked down the empty sidewalk.
And for the first time in what felt like years…
He felt something.
Not joy. Not sadness.
Just something.
End of Chapter 2