Coffee With Ghosts

ack together-doubtful and a little annoying wuuush... like it wasn't really trying. From the outside, this rickety coffee stall still faithfully displayed its ordinary facade (plus the bonus of t

or lost souls who were confused about finding

cheese-filled pull-apart bread. His brain, which was starting to get used to the strangeness, thought practically. "Who knows if ghosts also need a midnight snack. At least if they're

s before the sacred hour struck. Time that Damar used to clean the crooked tables full of coffee stains (maybe the tears of lovelorn customers?), and-

mar's tight grip. His bent head looked like it had been used to contemplate t

softly, his eyes glancing warily towards the corner bench whose atmosphere was always colder than a broken air conditioner. Then with a resigned sigh

:0

were no strange sounds from outside, except maybe the sound of crickets confiding in their friends. And the

t?) and relief (finally can rest!). "Unusual, no one's ha

r that usually turned on by itself with a spooky dangdut play

a

e. Something had just landed gracefully (or mayb

hadn't been used in a long time, or maybe... old dried blood

up the envelope, as if the object could suddenly turn into a giant cockroach.

ink was shaky, the writing small and a bit childish, like the w

ells nice. I always sit on the bench in the far corner. Sorry if it's sometimes cold. Tha

ing slowly, trying to digest the existentia

inside the stall felt like

ned in the letter. Still completely empty. The wooden chair look

t.

of black coffee. Still emitting thin wisps of steam ps

is throat. His steps slowly approached the table, like approach

ing coffee, staring at the empty chair in front of him, as if on a date with th

ecome a coffee addict kid like Om Damar here. Maybe you would have cried the first time you watched Titanic. Or

reason. The old radio in the corner that usually just collected dust suddenly turned on by itself, a

es, feeling the strange warmth

of the stall. Syuuut! Its shape wasn't clear, like the shadow of a

rd. Not a hysterical cry that would wake the neighbors, but a soft cry that was en

s trembled as he pulled aside the battered plastic curtain t

d table, lay a small wooden rocking horse toy. Its paint was faded here and there, but it still showe

felt warm, like it had just

ing stopped in

igerator door. It hit Damar's face with a chilling touch that gave him goosebumps. He looked up at the k

ftly kriet... krauk..., like some

table. Sat down in the chair

e being born. But tonight, in this rundow

e he was afraid of being chased by ghosts, but because he suddenly felt... lon

the wall clock showe

ure they would be dirty again tomorrow), and wiped the crooked tables (which seemed destined to

all. It just smelled softly, like old baby powder that had been tucked away

corner, there was a small heart-shape

Mot

t the cloth. His feelings were mixed

softly towards the window that showed t

tok..

s sounded from the s

hind the clouds. She wore a long nightgown whose color had faded like an ex's memories. Her hair was

eeek.... The night wind immediately ru

a soft voice like a gho

you. For making him feel aliv

n, like the Mona

woman was gone. Syuuut... Vanished as if swallow

:1

the empty chair in the corner, the rocking horse

laugh that sounded a

ry night feels like shooting an indie ho

h in an old coffee cardboard box. The

are there. Hope you're at peace ov

then locked the stall door kriet.... And as he t

g worse kho-kho... ngiiiik... like it was about to vomit leaves, a

le that made his hair sta

its voice like the si

... I'll play a

t inside the "memories" cardboard box from the stall. The letter was stuck to his bedroom wall whose

w who the real owner of