The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the cozy corner cafe, a small haven tucked away in the bustling heart of downtown Seattle.
Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm golden patches on the wooden tables and mismatched chairs.
Patrons typed away on laptops or chatted in low tones, the hum of an espresso machine providing a rhythmic backdrop.
At the counter, a woman in her mid-twenties waited for her order, her casual outfit—a loose dark gray sweater over short pants and stockings and scuffed sneakers—blending seamlessly with the laid-back crowd.
An artist hat sat snugly on her head, partially concealing her medium-length white hair, which was tied into a neat braided low twintail that swayed gently with her movements.
She tapped her fingers idly on the counter, her expression distant, as if her mind were already elsewhere.
"Large black coffee, no sugar," the barista called out, sliding the steaming cup toward her.
