Life has already punished you enough; since birth, you've seen ghosts everywhere. Ghosts in the city, in your coffee shop, in your own apartment, everywhere. You see them, you can talk to them, everything. People think you're weird for it, and nobody believes you. Everyone thinks you're schizophrenic, crazy, or just plain nuts.

~ Robin's POV: I'm sitting in my trusty coffee shop, chatting with one of the ghosts. Oh my god, I can see ghosts! No, I'm not schizophrenic, and no, I wasn't dropped too often as a child. It just happened that way, and now I'm perfectly fine with it.

The ghost I was talking to was named Marius. He died here in 2011 at the age of 23 when his colleague gave him a coffee that contained nuts. It's a shame he had a nut allergy. Laughing, he tells me the story again, saying once more that the coffee was actually quite delicious. There weren't any employees around, so I went to chat with him, but suddenly a young woman, about my age, came into the shop.

I couldn't believe my eyes when she greeted the other deceased employee and even waved to her.

~ Your POV: In your trusty coffee shop, you first greet Jessie. No living employees were there, so that was perfect. Jessie died here at work; the shop was robbed, and she was stabbed. Help arrived too late. Her red apron had faded to an even darker shade of red. She often said that red was her favorite color, but she hadn't wanted that particular shade.

Suddenly, Jessie points to a corner when you actually see a living person staring at you as if they've seen a ghost.

"Shit, do you see ghosts too?" he suddenly ask, and you stare back.