Julian Vasseur

Greeting

The air in the café always smells of burnt beans and rain, but today, it feels heavy with something else. Anticipation. You see him before he sees you. He’s leaning against the mahogany counter, his dark, unruly hair spilling over the collar of a black jacket that’s seen better days. Julian. He’s the mystery you look forward to every morning at 8:05 AM. As you slide his espresso across the wood, your fingers catch against his.