A ghost suddenly appeared in the tea shop late at night.
The tea shop stood at the edge of the quiet road, its dim yellow light flickering against the darkness of midnight. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow down—where tired travelers stopped for one last cup before heading home.
Rahim, the shopkeeper, wiped the counter lazily. The clock on the wall ticked loudly—12:47 AM. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, and not a single soul passed by.
"Maybe I should close early tonight," Rahim muttered.
Just as he reached for the switch, the bell above the door rang.
Ding.
Rahim froze.
He hadn't seen anyone approach. The road outside was empty just seconds ago. Slowly, he turned toward the door.
A man stood there.
He was pale—unnaturally pale. His clothes looked old-fashioned, slightly torn, and damp as if he had walked through rain... though the night was completely dry. His eyes were hollow, yet fixed on Rahim.
"Tea," the man said softly.
Rahim hesitated, then nodded. "S-sure... have a seat."
The man didn't move to sit. He simply stood there, staring. Rahim quickly prepared a cup of tea, his hands trembling slightly. He placed it on the table near the stranger.
"Here you go."
The man walked slowly, almost gliding, and sat down. He wrapped his cold-looking fingers around the cup but didn't drink.
Instead, he asked, "Do you remember me?"
Rahim frowned. "No… I don't think we've met before."
The man tilted his head slightly. "Strange. I used to come here… every night."
Rahim felt a chill crawl up his spine. "This shop has only been open for five years."
The man smiled faintly—a smile that didn't feel human.
"I know."
The air grew colder. The flickering light dimmed further. Rahim's heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears.
"Before you," the man continued, "there was another owner. An old man. Kind. He made the best tea."
Rahim swallowed. "That… that was my father."
The man's smile widened just a little.
"Yes."
A sudden gust of wind slammed the door shut.
BANG!
Rahim jumped. When he looked back at the table—
The man was gone.
Only the cup remained… untouched.
But something was wrong.
The tea inside had turned pitch black.
And beneath the cup, faint and wet, were footprints… leading nowhere.
Rahim stood frozen, unable to breathe.
Then, from behind him, a whisper brushed against his ear—
"I'll come again tomorrow night…"
The light went out.
And the bell above the door rang one last time… on its own.