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Entry Eleven: "Attention Becomes Burden"
The café smells like espresso and cinnamon, warm and slightly too sweet. There's soft acoustic music playing, the kind meant to feel intimate but just makes everything feel staged. The lighting is dim—Edison bulbs hanging from exposed beams, casting everything in amber.
He stands the moment I walk in. Smiles wide. Pulls out my chair before I can reach for it.
"I'm so glad we're doing this," he says, sitting down across from me. "I've been looking forward to it all day."
