The air in the cafe was thick with the scent of roasted beans and something much older—expectation. I checked my watch for the third time in five minutes. Across the table, the chair remained empty, a silent witness to the decade that had slipped through our fingers.
I nodded, unable to find my voice. The "so much time" wasn't just a measurement of days; it was a physical weight sitting on the table between our coffee cups, invisible and heavy as lead. We weren't just two people meeting for a drink; we were two strangers trying to find the pieces of ourselves we had left in each other's pockets ten years ago. "Tanto tiempo," I finally agreed. "Where do we even start?" tanto_tiempo
You smiled, and for the first time in a decade, the dust began to settle. "At the beginning," you said. "Or maybe just at yesterday." The air in the cafe was thick with
When the bell above the door finally chimed, the sound felt like a crack in a glass dam. You walked in, looking exactly the same and entirely different. The way you tilted your head to scan the room was a ghost of a gesture I used to know by heart. I nodded, unable to find my voice