A Quiet Café on a Cold Night
It was one of those evenings where the wind bites at your face and the cold seems to seep into your bones. The café was warm inside, the scent of fresh bread mixing with roasted coffee, a haven against the dark.
Two men had come in together, both middle-aged, both carrying the look of people who had seen better days. They ordered generously—sandwiches, hot meals, drinks. For a small café, their bill ran into several hundred dollars. Still, they were polite, even friendly. They spoke quietly to each other and seemed grateful for the warmth and food.
