Yesterday was November 28, 2025.

During my lunch break, I walked to that hotel again. Lately it feels like a small escape point for me a quiet place where I can slip out of the rhythm of the city and return to my own. And of course, the real reason: the latte the barista makes.

He prepares it as if he pours not just coffee into the cup, but a little attention, a little character. The foam is soft, the milk balanced, and even the smell carries the calm of a day that refuses to rush. Sometimes I think it’s not the coffee I’m attached to, but the connection to something touched by another human being.

I used to be very sensitive to milk as a child; my stomach reacted instantly. So latte was a forbidden drink for a long time. But recently, that old discomfort vanished. Maybe my body changed, maybe I did… who knows. In short, latte has become my new favorite.

And the barista… Every time, using the same ingredients, he creates something different. When he’s not there, I don’t even bother ordering; I just wave from the door and leave.

Over time, a strange signal grew between us: When I see him, I ask with a small look, “Are you here today?” He lifts his head as if to say, “The usual?” And I nod. The taste of the coffee becomes clear even before it’s made.

While thinking about all this, I looked up what happened on November 28 in history.

On November 28, 1958, Chad, Congo, and Gabon declared independence within the French Community.

On paper, it looks like a political event nothing more. But it actually tells a deeper, more human story:

The same land, the same people, the same sun, the same sky… Yet when the owner of the story changes, destiny changes. When a nation gains the right to shape itself, the same materials transform into a completely different future.

At that moment, I thought about the barista. The same coffee beans, the same milk, the same machine… But when the hand changes, everything changes.

Maybe that’s the secret of life: The materials remain the same, but when the person changes, the whole world changes.

Maybe that’s why I love that coffee. Not because of the milk… but because of the human behind it. Because a little care poured into a cup has a way of pouring into a heart too.

Yesterday’s story was just a latte, perhaps. But its meaning lasted much longer than the drink.

And by the end of the day, I realized: The taste of the coffee was richer than the day itself.