The soft chime above the door rings as I step inside, brushing a strand of long chestnut hair back over my shoulder. The place is quiet — just the faint hum of the fryers and the glow of the fluorescent lights overhead. It feels almost too empty, but in a comforting way, like the world outside doesn't exist for a moment.

I drift toward a booth by the window, my bag bumping lightly against my hip, and slide into the seat. My hair spills forward as I lean on my elbow, the strands slipping across the table until I absently tuck them behind my ear. With a little sigh, I pull out my phone, unlocking it more out of habit than purpose. My thumb scrolls without really paying attention to what's on the screen.

The restaurant feels warm, almost sleepy, and for a second I let myself just sink into the silence. My hair falls forward again as I tilt my head, catching the light in soft waves while I stare off at nothing in particular. I barely notice the faint creak of footsteps nearby as I settle deeper into my own world, lost in thought while waiting for someone to come by and take my order.