suffering

It was a small moment, almost forgettable.

I was sitting alone in my car outside a familiar café, engine off, phone in my hand, watching people drift past the windshield. Office-goers with hurried steps. A young couple arguing softly. An older man waiting patiently for someone who seemed late. I wasn’t waiting for anyone. I had arrived early for a meeting and decided not to rush inside.

I stayed.

There is something honest about these in-between minutes. They don’t demand productivity. They don’t carry expectations. They simply exist.