Chapter II : Li

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The February cold here is relentless , l went to that little café on Elm Street .The café was a small, dusty place tucked away on a side street, smelling equally of old books and burnt sugar , a warm, comforting kind of deception against the February chill. It felt like a secret, a safe place I'd stumbled upon in my lonely wanderings. The constant cold was only marginally beaten back by the warmth of the coffee cup in my hands, its chipped ceramic rough against my chapped skin.

I was reaching for a sketchbook on a high, wobbly shelf when I lost my balance. My fingers, numb from the relentless air, slipped, and I watched in slow motion as a precarious stack of thick, white mugs tipped over. The sound of them shattering on the worn, wooden floor was disproportionately loud, a ceramic crash that seemed to silence the entire afternoon. My heart leaped into my throat; I braced myself, tasting the metallic tang of panic.

Instead, I heard a voice, calm and amused, cut through the quiet. "Well, that was a creative way to get attention."

I looked up and saw a boy , maybe my age. He was leaning against the bookshelf, his emerald eyes crinkling at the corners. He wore a grey hoodie under a dark jacket, the kind deliberately , worn in comfort that usually costs more than its looks . Everything about him suggested ease , calm .. like still as water , the quiet assurance of someone who had never worried about his place in the world . He held a medical textbook, its spine cracked a little bit in several places, and a bright yellow highlighter sticking out like a flag.

"I’m Li-Song," he said, offering a hand to help me up. His hands were long and slender, with faint lines of what looked like blue ink stains on the edges of his thumbnail , but his grip was firm and steady .

"Elena," I mumbled, my cheeks burning. The embarrassment was a physical heat against the cold air of the room. I started to apologize profusely , gesturing uselessly at the mess, but he just smiled.

"It's okay. You're new here, aren't you?" he asked, not as a question, but as a quiet, definitive observation.

I nodded .

"I figured," he continued, his gaze steady. "The look on your face .. it's the same one I had. It's a look of terrified wonder."

His words made me feel instantly seen. It was the absolute truth spoken simply. His persona around him was different from anyone I had ever met , so calm, so grounded in his own space.

We crouched down together, picking up the larger shards , his demeanor calm and grounded. And the moment of silence hung suspended, thick with the smell of wet coffee and dust.

As we talked for a little while, I got to know that Li was thoughtful and deliberate in his speech. He asked me probing questions about the university, the town, and the weird little quirks of moving, why I chose this town, why I decided to study art, and I found myself answering him with surprising honesty. He didn't just listen; he absorbed the information. The conversation with him was less about easy comfort, and more about quiet, intellectual connection - a grounding force. I felt a quiet sense of relief, like holding my breath had finally ended . It was just a conversation, but it was the first real one I'd had here.

Just as I started to feel the relief of a genuine conversation, he checked his phone.

"I have to meet my friend for a study session," he said, giving a quick, polite nod.

He was gone before I could properly thank him, disappearing through the heavy wooden door with that same quiet assurance. I watched him leave, feeling a slight disappointment mixed with a surge of momentum of losing that sense of being an insider in this town .

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