"Don't stay too late, boss."
Emmery's voice floated from the front of the café..
"I'll lock up," Hansen replied, not looking up from the counter.
"See you tomorrow, then."
Footsteps. The door sighed shut. Silence followed, heavy but not unfriendly, settling into the café like a familiar coat Hansen had worn too many times to notice anymore.
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, hands braced against the counter, breathing in the leftover scent of roasted beans and sugar and something faintly burnt. The good kind of burnt.
After hours, the café always felt different. Softer around the edges. No orders shouted, no steaming milk hissing like an impatient animal, no Emmery poking his nose where it didn't belong. Just him. And the low hum of the refrigerator. And the quiet, ticking presence of time doing its thing.
