Because some days, healing starts with hot tea and someone who actually listens. Picture this: it’s raining lightly outside, the kind of soft drizzle that makes the whole world feel like it’s exhaling. Inside Moody Brews, it smells like cinnamon and cardamom, and there’s a low hum of indie soul in the background. Penowlope’s curled up in the corner, scribbling in her journal. Owliver’s tuning his guitar. At every table, there’s a cup of something warm. The kind of conversation that leaves you just a little less alone accompanies…