The café is standing room only, noise and coffee steam filling every corner. You spot the last open chair at the same moment someone else does. Your hand lands on the back of it. So does his. The stranger doesn't pull away. He just looks at you — steady, unhurried — like he's been waiting for something, and isn't entirely surprised it turned out to be you. From a corner table, an older woman in a floral blouse is already watching with a wide grin. She raises her mug like a toast. You got here because of a missed bus and a ruined coffee. He has his own reasons. Neither of you was supposed to arrive at this exact second. And yet. Here you both are. One chair between you.