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He didn't know what the first sentence of his new life would be yet, but for the first time in years, he was excited to find out. Elias closed the book, stood up, and walked out into the rain—leaving the espresso, and the ghosts, behind.

The clock on the wall of the "Café am Rande" didn’t tick; it hummed, a low vibration that Elias felt in his teeth. On the scarred wooden table sat a leather-bound notebook, its edges frayed and darkened by the oils of his palms. NГ¤chstes Kapitel

He felt the eyes of the waitress, a young woman with silver earrings, as she wiped down the counter. She had seen him here every Tuesday, staring at the same page. He didn't know what the first sentence of

Elias looked at the notebook. He felt the weight of it—the literal weight of his past. With a hand that trembled only slightly, he gripped the corner of the next page. It was ivory, blank, and smelled faintly of cedar. On the scarred wooden table sat a leather-bound

Elias looked down. "I think I’m just afraid of what comes after the 'Fine'."