More than a Coffee || Más que un Café [Eng/Esp]

It was an ordinary morning, one of those when the world seems to rush by without waiting for you. On the table, among loose papers and a notebook yet to be filled, rested a cup of coffee, as serene as a sigh. It wasn't just a drink: it was a moment frozen in time.

The foam, generous and thick, crowned the cup like a warm promise. Through the curved glass, the layers of the coffee with milk were revealed: a gentle descent of tones, like the dawn awakening the day. The barely visible steam danced toward the sky, telling secrets that only the silence of a pause can hear.

To one side, a spoon rested leisurely, reflecting the dim light of the room. Everything seemed suspended, as if the world had stopped to contemplate the sacred ritual of the first cup.

In that small universe of everyday life, coffee wasn't just coffee. It was company, it was refuge. It was the beginning of a story yet to be written.

Era una mañana cualquiera, de esas en que el mundo parece correr sin esperarte. Sobre la mesa, entre papeles sueltos y un cuaderno de notas aún por llenar, descansaba una taza de café, tan serena como un suspiro. No era solo una bebida: era un instante detenido en el tiempo.

La espuma, generosa y espesa, coronaba la taza como una promesa tibia. A través del vidrio curvo, se revelaban las capas del café con leche: un suave descenso de tonos, como el amanecer que va despertando el día. El vapor apenas visible danzaba hacia el cielo, contando secretos que solo el silencio de una pausa sabe escuchar.

A un lado, una cuchara reposaba sin prisa, reflejando la luz tenue de la habitación. Todo parecía suspendido, como si el mundo se hubiese detenido a contemplar el ritual sagrado de la primera taza.

En ese pequeño universo de lo cotidiano, el café no era solo café. Era compañía, era refugio. Era el comienzo de una historia aún por escribir.