Sitting in a corner of Starbucks, a warm cinnamon bun in front of me -- soft, spiraled, dusted with sugar that melts into the air like comfort itself.
I have just taken a small bite of it and just watching it now, letting the moment stretch a little longer than it should. Outside, everything keeps moving, people rushing, cars passing, time doing what it always does.
But here, there’s this pause.
Maybe it’s funny how something as simple as a cinnamon bun can hold space for deep thoughts. Or maybe it’s not about the pastry at all. Maybe it’s just an excuse to sit still and think about everything and nothing at once.
For now, I’ll stay right here... between warmth, silence, and the smell of coffee.











