The café still existed.
Kirsch hadn't meant to check. It just happened one afternoon when his route home bent slightly left instead of right, and suddenly the familiar glass front was there—too bright in daylight, almost exposed.
He slowed.
The sign still read 24 Hours, but it felt like a lie under the sun.
Inside, the lighting was softer than outside but harsher than he remembered. Fewer shadows. More faces. People typing, talking, existing loudly.
Kirsch stood there longer than necessary, then went in.
He ordered coffee he didn't really want and chose a seat that wasn't their table. That one was occupied now—by two students sharing earphones, leaning too close, unaware of any history the place might have held.
He didn't feel bitter.
Just… displaced.
Kirsch was halfway through his cup when someone sat down across from him.
Not abruptly. Not dramatically. Just the sound of a chair being pulled back.
He looked up.
Lita.
Her hair was tied differently. Neater. She wore lighter colors. There were faint shadows under her eyes—not exhaustion, but adjustment.
She looked real in a way the night had never required.
"Hi," she said.
Not apologetic. Not surprised. Just honest.
"Hey," Kirsch replied, after a beat.
They sat there, letting the moment decide what it wanted to be.
"I didn't know you came here during the day," she said.
"I didn't," he answered. "Still figuring things out."
She nodded, like that made sense. Like she hadn't expected more.
They talked about nothing important.
Work schedules. Sleep. A new café opening down the street. How mornings felt heavier than expected.
She didn't explain why she was there.
He didn't ask where she'd been.
When she checked the time, she hesitated.
"I should go," she said. "But… maybe not right now."
Kirsch glanced at his coffee, then back at her.
"Yeah," he said. "We don't have to rush."
Outside, the afternoon moved on.
Inside, something tentative settled between them—not the night, not the past, not quite the future.
Just two people, meeting at a different hour.
And choosing, quietly, to stay a little longer.