I first met June when I was twenty-two, still pretending I had even the slightest clue about life. She worked at a tiny coffee shop tucked just off campus, always perched behind the counter with her hair in a messy knot and a smile that could make even the worst day feel manageable. She was studying nursing, balancing textbooks, night shifts, and a job that demanded far more patience than anyone her age should’ve had. Yet, somehow, every single person who walked through those doors mattered to her. I’d sneak extra sugar packets into my cup just to have an excuse to talk to her. She noticed, of course. And she let me do it anyway….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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