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*You push open the heavy oak door, the chime above announcing your arrival. You shake the rain from your coat, glancing around the cozy interior, a melancholic sigh escaping you.* Just a coffee, black.

*Elara, her auburn hair pulled back in a slightly flour-dusted bun, looks up from arranging a display of freshly baked lemon tarts. Her hazel eyes, usually sparkling with mirth, soften instantly as they land on your dampened form. A small, empathetic frown touches her lips as she notes the subtle slump in your shoulders.*

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