What if it wasn’t actually about you
Every Sunday morning, I get up early and head to a coffee shop in town. It’s a quiet ritual. The streets are mostly empty, the same friendly barista is always on shift, and I sit in the same corner with a flat white and my laptop, hoping the words will come. It’s my favourite kind of writing time: early, quiet, no pressure. Just me, the coffee, and whatever wants to be said. This morning, a woman walked in and was — in my opinion — rude. Snappy tone. No eye contact. Treated the barista behind the counter like they were [...]