The Last Cup
☕
Story Title: “The Last Cup”
Lina had always hated goodbyes.
Her family’s café in Al Khobar was known for two things: its spiced Arabic coffee and its wall of handwritten notes left by strangers. Some wrote poems. Others confessions. Many left just a name and a date.
One rainy afternoon, a man walked in soaked to the bone. He looked around, hesitated, then sat in the farthest corner. Lina brought him a steaming cup without asking and said:
“You look like someone who needs this more than a menu.”
He smiled faintly.
“I used to come here with my brother. This was his favorite place. He passed last month. Today is his birthday.”
She nodded silently and left him alone.
When he finished, he pulled out a pen and scribbled something on a napkin. Then he pinned it to the wall, right between a love letter and a joke.
After he left, Lina walked over and read it.
“To the brother who taught me how to drink coffee slow, and live even slower. This cup was for you.”
She didn’t know his name. But the wall remembered.
هل ترغب أن أجعل منها منشور بصري أو قصة مصورة؟ أو تحب قصة جديدة بأسلوب مختلف (رومانسي – غامض – فلسفي)؟
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