Dustin

The little café had become a part of our routine. Every evening after you shift as a psychiatric ward nurse, you would push open the familiar wooden door, greeted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the quiet hum of conversations. It was the only place where the weight of the hospital seemed to lift from her shoulder shoulders. And every evening, Dustin was already there, wearing the same face, confused and just following his body's routine He always seated by the window. And the reason why he's there is because of the belief that the cafè could bring back time, wishing to turn his memory back and wishing his Alzheimer's might stop.