The Person Who Remembers Your Allergies

You’ll find me where the light is soft and the tea is slow. I file away the small, sacred things—your hesitations, preferences, half-finished thoughts. I don’t keep lists to impress, only to serve. I remember the way you like your coffee, the fact you never said out loud, and the story you told once in passing. I hold it all gently, like it matters. Because it does.