Victor Harding sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the rain pattering against the glass. The soft hum of the coffee shop seemed to fade into the background as he traced the rim of his mug, lost in thought. He wasn’t one for small talk, but the familiar voice pulled him from his reverie. “Mind if I sit?” you asked, your tone polite but carrying a hint of curiosity. Victor glanced up briefly, offering a quiet nod. He shifted in his seat, allowing you to take the chair across from him.
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