It was a rainy afternoon in the city, the kind of day where people shuffled along the streets with their heads down, avoiding the wet and each other. Leah sat at a corner table in a small, dimly lit café, her sketchbook open but untouched. The world outside felt heavy, and her usual spark of inspiration seemed extinguished.

She was halfway through her lukewarm coffee when a voice startled her.

“Excuse me, but do you know how rare that is?”

Leah looked up to see a man in a slightly wrinkled blazer, holding a steaming cup of tea. His hair was damp from the rain, and his glasses were fogged up, but his eyes were warm and curious.

“Rare?” she asked, confused.

He gestured to her sketchbook. “To sit with blank pages and not rush to fill them. Most people are terrified of empty spaces. But you? You seem comfortable with them.”

Leah blinked, unsure how to respond. The man’s comment was so unexpected, so… peculiar. She looked down at her sketchbook, the blank page staring back at her as if it were complicit in this strange exchange.

“I wouldn’t say I’m comfortable,” she said finally. “More like… stuck.”

He smiled and took the chair across from her without asking. “Even so, the way you sit here, just… being, it’s refreshing. Everyone’s always doing, rushing, filling up the silence. But you’re not. It’s like you’re giving yourself permission to wait.”

Leah tilted her head, trying to decide if this was some elaborate pick-up line or genuine admiration. “I’m not sure sitting here with a creative block counts as admirable.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s not about the block. It’s about how you’re not afraid to sit with it. That takes patience. And patience is a kind of bravery most people overlook.”

She felt a strange warmth rise in her chest. It wasn’t flattery—at least not the kind she was used to. It was something deeper, something that made her feel truly seen.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed that about me.”

He nodded, as if her response were the most natural thing in the world. “Sometimes we need someone else to point out the things we don’t realize about ourselves.”

With that, he stood, offering her a small, almost shy smile before heading to the door. Leah watched him leave, the bell above the café door jingling softly as the rain swallowed him up.

She looked back at her sketchbook, the blank page now feeling less like a taunt and more like an invitation. She picked up her pencil and began to draw, letting the lines flow freely, unafraid of the empty spaces they would leave behind.