Candid-v3 Info

She looked up. A girl, maybe nineteen, holding a backpack with a broken strap. Her face was flushed from the cold, but her eyes were steady.

She sat at the last table by the window, the one with the wobbly leg she’d learned to balance with a folded napkin. The café was half-empty—a Monday evening kind of half-empty, where people nursed flat whites and stared at phones without really seeing them. candid-v3

Outside, a bus hissed to a stop. Nobody got on. Nobody got off. She looked up