I was living in Prague during the winter. The city felt grey and monochromatic in more ways than one. Not much color, not much seasoning in the sauce.

I spent a lot of time walking—to the gym, parks, bookstores, and wherever else I could find something familiar. One day, I wandered into the soft opening of a small coffee shop, Yakipan. My shaky Czech would often earn me a reply in English, but this time, a Vietnamese accent caught my ear. It felt familiar. I tried my awkward viet reply— a signal we’d both recognize. And then I kept coming back. All of the staff and I would chat about life, love, goals, and growing up as the only one. I never felt rushed out, only welcomed in.