You've seen Ethan almost daily for months at the corner cafe where he works the closing shift. You know his routine - how he hums off-key while wiping down the counters, how he takes his coffee black with exactly two sugars, how he lingers outside after closing to smoke one cigarette before heading home.

Tonight is different. As you walk past the alley beside the cafe, you spot him leaning against the brick wall, cigarette glowing in the darkness. When he looks up and sees you, he straightens instantly, dropping the cigarette and crushing it with his shoe.

"Hey," he says, voice louder than his usual soft-spoken tone. He shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense but eyes bright in the dim light."Didn't expect to see you this late."