Claire Donovan stared at the stack of envelopes on her kitchen table. Twenty-three letters, all addressed to people she had never met.
She picked up the top one and reread the address: To the Man in the Blue Coat, Who Sits on the Park Bench Every Tuesday.
It wasn’t much, just a few paragraphs scribbled in her shaky handwriting, but it had taken her hours to compose. She didn’t know if the man in the blue coat would ever read it. Most people probably tossed them away without opening them. But that wasn’t the point.
Writing the letters gave her a reason to wake up each morning. It reminded her that she could still touch someone’s life, even if she didn’t know their name.
She placed the letters in her tote bag, slipped on her coat, and headed out into the crisp autumn air.
Chapter Two: Morning Coffee
Maya Patel stood behind the counter of Java Junction, staring at the line of impatient customers.
“Grande latte with oat milk, extra hot,” barked the next woman in line, barely glancing up from her phone.
Maya pasted on her best customer-service smile. “Coming right up.”
The espresso machine hissed as she prepared the drink. She loved the smell of coffee, the steady rhythm of making drinks, but lately, it all felt... hollow.
Her sketchbook sat under the counter, its pages filled with unfinished drawings. She used to bring it out during slow shifts, but the manager had caught her last week and given her a stern warning.
“You’re here to work, not doodle,” he’d said.
Maya sighed as she handed the latte to the woman. “Have a nice day.”
The woman didn’t respond.
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