Coffee With Ghosts

watching over this part-time horror establishment. This time, he came with more thorough preparations. A battered flashlight in his pants pocke

there was an illusion of safety. A small one. Especially after the faceless man and self-moving chair incident the night before. An event that made him

:0

nging everything into a darkness that immediately sent shivers down Damar's spine. Then, with a low hum ngiiii

that usually accompanied the arrival of normal guests (if there were any normal guests at this hou

the cold tiled floor, like an Annabelle doll doing the moonwalk without music. Her face was indistinct, covered by a thin mist that made her look mysterious and slightly frightening. Even more indistinct than the faceless man who had come th

m behind the cash register, his body stiff and upright like a wax statue that had forgotten to melt. His heart pounded like the bass drum o

human voice that came out. Ngiing... The sound was like a so

the same as

re that he hadn't had time to wash. Pyar! He looked up, trying to find the source of the sound

the same as

ettes on their battered radio. Sometimes the melodious (or mournful?) voice of Meggy Z heartbroken, sometimes the golden (or off-key?) voice of Rhoma Irama l

iss?" Damar asked cautiously, tryin

devoid of any readable emotion. Only her deep black e

me... to ch

ump. The woman continued "speaking," each sentence that came from her lips was a fragment of a different song lyric, as if her life was an endless medley of melancholic dangdut.

me... to ch

solutely nothing to do with the situation at hand. The woman's voice seemed to jump through time dimensions, echoing

emed nonsensical but somehow felt very familiar to his ears. Like a song that kept playing in his memory, unstoppab

o feel wrong, we're j

edges of his brain like cockroaches in the stall's kitchen. He wanted to run, to escape as far as possible from this place, but his feet

nally stoppe

nally silence returned-or just an intensify

e?). Damar's hands felt heavy, his heart beat faster and faster like maracas shaken brutally. But this was his job. He had to be professional, even if his customers were ghosts who communicated through dangdut songs. He wanted to

eaking song. Suddenly, the woman's indistinct face smiled. A strange, unreal smile. Like a smile in a dream that felt so beautif

k eyes that pierced through the faint mist towards Damar. A gaze

ke cigarette smoke that vanished into thin air carried by the night breeze. Leaving Damar alone in the increasingly

no traces of a floating body that he could find. But in the spot where the woman had been sitting, lay a dry leaf that looked wet, as if it had j

eeek... The leaf felt wet and cold in his h

back on the table, his eyes fell on s

ually used for writing coffee recipes, but this paper loo

he unfolded the paper

All will return. Don't let them

at gripped his heart. Dug... dug... dug... At that moment, the fluorescent lamp on the stall's ceiling suddenly went out completely. Thunk! The

teps. Tap... tap... tap... The footsteps were slow but steady, a

e returned. This time it was no longer the melancholic

how does it

ne. Only the long shadows of the coffee shelves and the increasingly thick darkness. Kri