Beneath an unyielding sky, the constellation cafes blink into existence, one sip at a time. Each table, a portal to an unfinished thought, spills reflections site unseen.

When did the stars become our solace, seated in shadowed light? When dreaming paved the way through phantom footsteps and whispered winds?

Time drips like honey in these interludes; the past and future seemingly lacquered over a still surface. Voices echo within, reverb fading into silence—a laboratory of longing.

I am adrift, yet anchored to memories I know must belong to others, scattered like constellations across familiar yet uncharted territories.