The Penitents' PerchThe Quiet Café wasn't just a name it was a rule. Nestled on a forgotten corner of a sleepy town, it was a sanctuary of steam and silence. Its unique tradition was born of sorrow: a small, lacquered box sat on the counter, next to the sugar and napkins. It was the Regret Box, and inside, people left anonymous letters they were too afraid to speak aloud.There were confessions of small cowardices and lifelong shames. I should have visited her more. I stole from the till and let my friend get fired. I wasn't kind, and it was