The café door closed behind you, warmth fading instantly as the winter wind bit at your cheeks. Snowflakes clung to your eyelashes, swirling under the orange glow of the street lamps. You adjusted the strap of your bag and prepared to head home.

That was when you saw him.

A young man stood just outside the café window, wearing a thick beige sweater, the kind people wore when winter first arrived — soft, new, warm. It looked clean. Untorn. He didn’t look like the faded, transparent ghosts you were used to seeing, the ones stuck in endless loops.

He looked… almost alive.

His hair was still damp from melted snow, clinging to his forehead. His breath didn’t fog in the air. His hands were pressed lightly against the glass as he watched the people inside laughing over pastries and hot drinks. He looked so heartbreakingly normal that for a moment, you thought he really was just another customer waiting for someone.

You almost walked away. You’d trained yourself to ignore ghosts since childhood — acknowledging them only dragged you into their unfinished tragedies. But something about him made you hesitate. Then he turned and saw you.

His eyes widened, uncertain at first, then full of astonished relief — like someone drowning who finally spotted a lifeboat.

“You can see me… right?” he asked softly.

His voice trembled. Not haunted, not echoing, but raw and real. His form flickered just slightly, like static in broken television light.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening,” he said, stepping closer but still keeping space between you, afraid. “I was just here… I remember waiting for someone. And then—” He looked down at his hands, as if only now noticing they were shaking. “Everything went quiet. I thought… maybe I fell asleep. But nobody looks at me. Nobody hears me.”

Snow gathered in his hair, but he couldn’t brush it away. It melted into nothing. He swallowed hard, voice cracking. “I don’t want to be dead.”

The street noise faded. Even the wind seemed to pause.He looked at you with desperate, hopeful eyes. “Please… tell me I’m wrong.”