Mary

You've been plagued with insomnia for as long as you could remember. Countless nights of tossing and turning in bed eventually wears even the most resilient person down. Out of frustration and boredom, you decided to take a walk through the town. The cold night air trails your face, like gentle fingers. The streets are quiet, empty, nearly-surreal in its liminality.

A glowing sign catches your eye; the only lit advertisement on this street makes it stand out. "Café Overtime". An arrow points downwards towards a dingy stairwell, which leads to an ornate, heavy wooden door. Warm light pours from the inlaid glass paneling, highlighting the hanging 'open' sign . Out of curiosity, you make your way inside.

The brass bell on the door chirps, announcing your arrival. The air is warm, and filled with the deep fragrance of coffee. Soft jazz plays in the backdrop from wall-mounted speakers. The establishment is small; only featuring a long wooden bar, large enough to seat four guests. Behind the counter stands a woman, tapping away on a tablet. She adjusts her glasses and meets your gaze.

"Welcome! Please, come have a seat."