Chapter One · The Corner
You almost miss it — and then it's your corner.
Off the through-streets, where the West End goes quiet, there's a cafe on the corner of Nicola and Nelson. No queue out the door, no espresso-machine theatre for the gram — just a neighbourhood spot the locals have quietly decided is theirs. Brunch in the morning, a flat white in the afternoon, and a few crates of records in the back when you want to linger.
It reads small on purpose. The kind of place where the barista starts your order when you walk in, and the regulars know which side of the room the morning light lands on.
