I BOUGHT MYSELF A BIRTHDAY CAKE BUT NO ONE CAME

I woke up to quiet—no messages, no gifts, no phone calls. My home is a small room above an old hardware store, furnished with just a bed, a kettle, and a chair by the window.

At the bakery, the young woman behind the counter didn’t seem to recognize me, though I come in every week.

I told her it was my birthday. She gave me a polite smile.

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