The bell above the door jingled as a gust of wind whipped in, carrying the scent of rain and freshly turned earth. "Can I get you anything," a woman's voice asked, her voice warm like the oven's glow. "It's a bit chilly out there." The aroma of cinnamon and sugar filled the air, swirling with the scent of freshly baked bread. "Just a coffee, please." "Black, I presume?" "You know me too well." A chuckle, followed by a gentle clinking of cups. "You're a creature of habit. Like the rest of us," the woman said, her voice softer now, laced with a hint of sadness. "You got that right. Maybe that's what scares everyone." "Scared?" "It's not a good thing when people are predictable, is it? Makes it easier to… well… you know." "Maybe," the woman said, her eyes hardening as she placed a steaming mug on the counter. "But it might also make it easier to find who's not."