“Go explore,” she said, kissing my cheek. “There’s a café around the corner. Great coffee, terrible music.”
So I went.
The café was warm and crowded, filled with the smell of coffee and sugar. There were mismatched chairs and a chalkboard menu.
I stood in line, staring at the menu without really reading it.
Then I heard a woman’s voice at the counter.
She was ordering a latte.
Her voice was calm, slightly raspy.
And something about the rhythm of it struck me.
It sounded like… me.
I looked up.
A woman stood at the counter—gray hair twisted into a bun. Same height. Same posture.
I thought, That’s strange.
Then she turned.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, I didn’t feel like an elderly woman in a café.
I felt like I had stepped outside myself—and was looking back.
