The café smelled of burnt espresso and vanilla, the kind of aroma that made Delia feel both comforted and restless. She stirred her coffee, staring out the window at the rain pooling in the cracks of the sidewalk. The world outside felt muted, colors dulled by the overcast sky. Across the table, an elderly man with a newspaper attempted small talk.
“Rain like this,” he said, folding his paper neatly, “makes you think about the mistakes you’ve let soak in too long.”
Delia only nodded, unsure of how to respond. The sound of the rain tapping against the window filled the silence.
“I almost drove home once. Drunk. Stupid.” He tapped a page of his paper. “You’d be surprised how much of life is built on split decisions.”
Her thoughts caught on his words. She’d spent weeks agonizing over a job offer in another city, paralyzed by the fear of change. She opened her mouth to answer but stopped. He stood, folded his coat over his arm, and looked at her directly.
“I didn’t. I stayed parked.” Then he smiled, as if sharing a secret, and walked out.
Delia felt a weight lift, suddenly sure of what to do.
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