A ritual carried forward from a lifetime ago, when mornings were simpler and silence meant safety.

And for a flicker of a second, they were back in that booth in Elkins Perk, arguing over Planck time and infinity—laughter and physics debates and shared silence. No laughter now. Just muscle memory. A flicker of that still lived in this moment. Fragile, but alive. Somehow, this still felt sacred—the coffee, the silence, the not-speaking. A ritual carried forward from a lifetime ago, when mornings were simpler and silence meant safety. Back then, it was always her—behind the counter, teasing him about thermodynamics, drawing spirals in foam.