Placeholder text: The clock on the wall hummed softly as if it were thinking, counting moments that no one else noticed. Outside, a bus hissed to a stop and released a small cloud of warm air and colder impatience, while inside a notebook lay open to a page filled with half-finished ideas. Someone had written a sentence, crossed it out, then drawn a tiny star in the margin for reasons even they might not remember. The room smelled faintly of coffee and paper, and for a brief second it felt like everything was paused, waiting for the next thought to decide where the day would go.