The Ghost in the Café

Theme song: Where's My Love by SYML

"Some people never leave, even after they're gone."

— Mira

---

It was a Tuesday when I returned to the café.

The air inside was thick with the aroma of roasted beans and memory.

It hadn't changed—same chipped blue mugs, same honey-colored counter, and that old jazz song that Elian always said reminded him of Paris.

It was almost cruel, how familiar it felt.

I stood by the entrance for a while, afraid that if I walked in, I'd dissolve into the past completely.

But I did it anyway.

---

The barista, a kind girl with tired eyes and a sunflower tattoo, gave me a soft nod of recognition.

I used to come in here every day with Elian, our laughter echoing between coffee grinders and espresso steam.

Now I just ordered tea and sat by the window—his favorite seat.

---

I stared at the chair across from me.

It wasn't empty.

Not to me.

---

For a long time, I said nothing.

I just listened—to the quiet hum of life around me, to the rain tapping gently against the window, and to my heart slowly stitching itself back together.

A part of me kept hoping I'd hear his voice, feel his hand brush against mine.

But there was only silence.

A comforting silence.

---

I pulled out my notebook, the one Elian had given me on my birthday last year.

The pages were still mostly blank.

So I started writing.

Not to him.

With him.

---

"I went back to our café today," I wrote.

"It still smells like cinnamon and old stories. You'd laugh if you saw how quiet I was—me, who never stopped talking when you were around."

---

The words flowed easily.

I didn't need to search for them.

They had been waiting for me, just like this place had.

---

And for the first time in weeks, I felt… okay.

Not healed.

But okay.

---

I looked out at the rain, remembering how he once said, "Grief is just love with nowhere to go."

Maybe now, I'd found somewhere for it to land.