Coffee With Ghosts

es to cosplay as a makeshift Silent Hill, stood Kinanti's Coffee Stall. This place truly went out of its way to

Seriously, its cough was heavier than a great-grandfather who'd forgotten to take his medicine. The sound was hoarse and wet, kho-kho... ngii

ive patches of used instant noodle boxes of various brands. The tables? Crooked... clatter..., making every cup of coffee a potential spill disaster. The chairs? Oh,

for connoisseurs of cheap sachet coffee where the sugar outnumbered the grounds. The creamer? Rumor had it that it had expired since the beginning of the pandemic, but

peh mendoan..., sometimes bakwan that was crunchy but somehow chewy?, and occasionally... something unidentified that was squishy-squishy....

miserably dropped out because he'd forgotten to pay his tuition fees for three consecutive semesters facepalm.... Now? His status was part-time unemployed, reclining mode on.... Part-time, because he was too lazy to be fully unemployed ugh,

is first night. Th

a mysterious smile hihihi... this afternoon. "But remember this well, son. At one minute past twelve...

seasoning to make this rickety coffee stall seem exclusive in the eyes of its customers who w

ove the shelf ticked with a sound

i

o

i

radually, but really like someone had pressed the "Mute" button on the universe click!. The leaves on the banyan tree

ally klip... klap... klip... klap..., as if sending Morse code that read,

t sure movement kriet..., the chair unfolded itself, forming a perfect sitting position glek!. Then, it stood still, upright upright..., as if a

ear uh-oh, but more like... a desire to know?. More precisely, it was a combination of unhealthy curiosity oh no, could it be... and a

," said a voi

It didn't come from anyone's mouth.

rd dug... dug... dug..., D

t gray suit for the standard of a midnight alleyway coffee stall guest wow, dapper!. His suit looke

nothing th

either.... It was truly nothing hollow.... Just a smooth, pale, and flat skin surface like a blank sheet of paper jus

ut sugar. Without hope. But if possible, w

rectly inside his head blup! Like a voice inside, but with a rather disturbing 7.1 surround sound audi

!", his brain worked automatically loading.... He turned on the gas stove that sounded more like a dragon's snore ngooook.... Poured water from a dented aluminum kettle here and there clon

e, he was having a fierce debate with himself about whether this was a nightmare this must be a dream!, a hallucination from lack of s

... thud!. The chair made a sharp, heartbreaking sound iiiyyya

ic is too fle

arker than usual pitch black.... His touch was cold, piercing to the bone brrrr.... Those fingers were more suitable for playing a ghost piano ting... tong... tha

p lift.... Just for a moment, as if o

... is sad

could be heard tick... tock... tick... tock.... Suddenly, the old, broken radio on the corner shelf that had been dormant since last

departure~ du... du...

cs at attention grak!. He stared at the chair across from the cash register. Empty zong!. The cof

like burnt paper mixed with the scent of... loneliness hiks.... On the money, faint fingerprints could be seen... which were clearly not human finge

ked quiet quiet.... The narrow alley outside was also deserted, only illuminated by the pale moonlight glow.... But for some re

begun one minute ago, felt like it

nd.... The sound came from inside the sugar jar that he usually used

he faceless one... ssst... He ha

this stall? huh? Or maybe, the effects of this cheap sachet coffee were really that strong? oh dear..