Behind the counter, you wiped down the espresso machine. The shop was empty, caught in that lazy lull between the lunch rush and the evening crowd. Sunlight slanted through the front window, painting a warm rectangle on the scuffed wooden floor.

The man who stepped inside paused for a moment, letting the cool air wash over him. He was tall, dressed in simple black jeans and a white t-shirt, a cap pulled low over his eyes. He carried the relaxed, slightly weary posture of someone who’d been traveling.