I noticed her before she noticed me.
She moved into the building across the street in early spring, when the city still carried traces of winter in its bones. I recognized the look on her face the first morning she walked into the café—half-tired, half-somewhere-else. People like us don't always carry sadness in obvious ways. Sometimes it lives in the pause before a smile or the way someone stares too long at nothing.
I didn’t plan to watch her. But her window faced mine. And every morning, like clockwork, she opened it just enough to let in the world—and let out her voice.
She hummed.
Low and soft, like a secret she hadn’t quite told herself yet. A melody repeated enough times that I started learning it, even though I didn’t know the name. It wasn’t a popular tune. It wasn’t anything I’d heard on the radio or found on any playlist.
It was hers.
I started sitting at Table Nine after the first week. The seat gave me just the right view of her reflection in the café window. She never looked inside, but I think part of her knew I was there.
One morning, she laughed into her phone.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEMAZTjOHud
Just once. Brief. But it cracked something open in me.
That sound stayed with me longer than it should have.
She reminded me of a story I tried to write once—about a girl who sang to heal people without realizing she was bleeding herself. I deleted it years ago. But when I saw her, I started rewriting pieces of it in my head.
She was always alone.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ35n3b62CGR
So was I.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA7Iv4QeHF7
And for a long time, that felt normal.
But then came the rain.
And she didn’t hum that morning.
She sat outside, soaked, shivering—not from the cold, but from something deeper. And in that moment, every version of me that wanted to stay invisible decided to break its own rule.
I crossed the street.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjB2i4S5P9X
Took out my earbud.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3AcB5zH1Y3
Offered it to her.
I didn’t say, “Are you okay?”76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3zb5MSgXNE
I didn’t ask anything at all.
Just—76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV7dwVZaNhL
“Listen.”
To the song she didn’t know I had memorized.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡanxhdsQDsc
To the one I’d been keeping for her.
She looked at me like I’d stolen a page out of her diary.
But the truth was, I had only been listening.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVtJEu1meJn
And maybe, sometimes, that’s enough to start a story worth writing.76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6gKUg7d2yr
76Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡapJ6FrQlFE
and then Add to home screen.