The Scent of Warm Bread

I wear this cap to hide the world from me, but I cannot hide my heart from you.
You always arrive at five. You bring two cups of coffee and a smile that tastes like Sunday mornings.
We sit in silence by the window while city lights blur into gold. Your hand brushes mine—a light touch, barely there, yet it ripples through me like water on stone.
I look up to see you watching me with eyes that understand everything I have never said aloud.
In this crowded street, we are an island of two people and one heartbeat.

Editor: Pure Linen