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Sometimes we wake up with a strange unease — a hollow feeling that something unpleasant is about to happen.
Some say the body senses trouble before the mind does.
Daniel’s left eye had been twitching since morning.
He wasn’t a superstitious man, but when life is in turmoil, even reason looks for omens.
On another day, he would’ve shrugged it off — determined to make a bad morning better as the day went on.
But not today.
All night, Daniel had simmered from a bitter argument with his ex-wife — the kind that replays long after the words end.
“There’s so much in common between evil and Eve,” he muttered when she’d shown up that morning — with her new partner.
His thoughts were sharp, restless. To escape them, he drove without direction, trying to reassure himself that “the world isn’t ending — there must still be kind, rational people out there.”
After an hour of aimless driving, he spotted a small café glowing with warm morning light. For a moment, he thought a cup of coffee might calm the storm inside him.
Inside, the air smelled of fresh bread and quiet — two things Daniel felt he no longer understood.
He told himself, “This will be a happy day. No matter what.”
He sat near the counter, ordered coffee, and noticed the room — a mix of college students on laptops, friends chatting softly before work.
All men, he realized.
Maybe that’s why it felt so peaceful.
And then, he saw her.
A woman sat by the window, reading a book, utterly at peace.
There was something infuriating about her calmness — as if life itself had placed her there to mock him, to remind him of all the grace he’d lost.
Before he could stop himself, he said aloud, his voice cutting through the café:
“Today,” he declared loudly, “is the first day of the rest of my life! Coffee and muffins for everyone — except that woman!”
The waiter blinked, unsure if he’d heard right.
But Daniel’s face left no room for questions.
Moments later, the café hummed with quiet delight. Trays of muffins appeared on tables — for everyone except her.
The woman looked up from her book. Their eyes met. And then, to his surprise — she smiled.
“Thank you,” she said gently.
Daniel felt irritation rise. He was expecting her to react the way his wife would have.
“Fine! Add pastries for everyone — except her!”
Again, the woman smiled. Again, she said, “Thank you.”
Confusion replaced anger. Maybe all women aren’t the same, he thought to himself.
He got up and approached the window, half-demanding, half-pleading,
“What’s wrong with you, lady? I keep excluding you, and you keep thanking me!”
The waiter, who had stepped closer anticipating trouble, leaned in and said softly, with a knowing smile,
“She’s not upset, sir. She owns this café.”
Daniel froze.
For a second, the air itself seemed to laugh. Then, a chuckle escaped him — the first in weeks.
“I do own the café,” she said softly. “But that’s beside the point. I’ve learned not to lose my inner peace just because someone else has lost theirs. My peace is my own.”
Sometimes life holds up a mirror in the strangest ways.
We strike out at others to soothe our own pain — and life gently shows us how foolish that is.
He looked at her once more and, for the first time, saw that she looked nothing like his ex-wife.
She was simply a woman by the window — and he, perhaps, was finally ready to heal.
Thank you for stopping by and reading my story. I hope it left you with a moment of reflection — do visit again for more such tales of life and perspective.
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