The moment we picked up the phone, a man's voice filled the room—pleasant, calm, almost too calm.
"Hey. Glad you made it on time. Hope the walk to the shop wasn't too tiring."
He paused, then added, casually, "I know what you're thinking. Why isn't he here to train us? Well, there's been a problem, and I couldn't make it in time."
I glanced at Tanya, silently begging her to notice how strange this already sounded.
She didn't. Of course she didn't.
"Alright," the man continued, his tone suddenly sharper. I flinched. "Let's begin the training."
Before I could respond, he went on. "I want you thre—"
He stopped.
"I mean… two of you—to go to the counter and pick up a cone."
That pause stuck with me.
We stepped out of the staffroom and approached the counter. Tanya grabbed a cone like she'd been working there for years.
"Now," the man said, "put any three flavours of your choice."
She scooped Bubblegum, Vanilla, and Chocolate. The scoops were neat. Too neat. Suspiciously perfect.
"Good," he said. "Now throw it in the trashcan behind you."
We froze.
I leaned closer to Tanya and whispered, "No. That's insane. Do not throw it away. We'll eat it."
"Obviously," she whispered back. "Look at these scoops."
We stifled a laugh and waited.
Silence.
The kind that presses against your ears.
"Uh… are we done or—" I began, irritation slipping into my voice.
"Throw the ice cream in the trashcan behind you," he repeated.
I cleared my throat. "We already did."
It was a lie. The cone was still cold in Tanya's hand.
Silence again.
I sighed. "Whatever. Just do it." Before she could, I leaned in and took a bite of the chocolate.
"You can do this every time you mess up a customer's order," the man said smoothly.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered under my breath. "Did we even get an order wrong?"
Tanya snorted.
"Next," he continued, unfazed, "when the ice cream runs out, go to the freezer room and bring new buckets."
I pointed at Tanya. She groaned but headed off anyway.
"Lastly," his voice dropped, quieter now, heavier, "listen very carefully. If you want to surv—"
He stopped.
"If you want to work here, there are rules you must follow."
I found myself staring at the front door, my mind drifting for reasons I couldn't explain.
"There's no time to explain everything today," he said. "So I'll give you just one."
I turned back to the counter.
"No one," he continued, "is to be sent away empty-handed. Give them a cone if you have to—but no one leaves empty-handed."
Concern bled into his voice.
I snapped out of it just as Tanya returned, clicking her pen and sticking a note onto the counter.
GIVE CONE!
"Where did you even get that?" I whispered.
She shrugged.
"Good luck, girls," the man said. "Remember what I told you."
The line went dead.
The shop felt too quiet without his voice—like it was waiting for something.
I sighed, the sound louder than I meant it to be. Maybe Tanya noticed. She didn't say anything.
I cleared my throat, desperate to fill the silence. "So… what do you think about his voice?"
She raised an eyebrow. "His voice? Nothing."
"Come on," I said. "It was a good voice. Like—someone who can sing."
She stared at me. "What's your point?"
I grinned. "You think Daisy would like him?"
She blinked. "Daisy? Never."
We laughed. Daisy didn't have time for things like this—especially boys. She had plans. Medical school. Becoming a doctor. Buying her parents a house. Big dreams that didn't leave room for distractions.
We were so busy talking that we didn't notice the customer until the bell on the counter rang.
"I would like an ice cream," he said flatly. "Lime flavour."
The way he spoke felt rehearsed, like he was reading from a script. But what choice did we have?
Tanya scooped the lime ice cream while I took the money and slid it into the register. He accepted the cone and left without a word.
What unsettled me most was his eyes.
He didn't blink.
Not once.
He never broke eye contact, standing there completely still, like someone had instructed him exactly how to behave. It felt like there was someone else in the room with us—someone we couldn't see. Someone whose presence lingered just out of reach.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
"Creepy," Tanya muttered.
I nodded, my gaze drifting to the trashcan behind the counter.
It was already full.
Melted ice cream pooled at the bottom, colours bleeding into each other—pink, brown, white—like cone after cone had been dumped in a hurry.
My stomach tightened. "Did… you do that?"
Tanya shook her head slowly.
"Tani?" I whispered.
The bell above the front door rang.
We both jumped.
Another customer stood there, smiling.
"Chocolate," he said.
I grabbed a cone and tried to scoop, but the ice cream slipped, collapsing in on itself. My hands shook.
Tanya snatched the scooper from me. "Move."
Rude—but helpful.
We handed over the cone. As usual, the customer left without a word.
Then the lights flickered.
And went out.
The shop plunged into darkness.
I gasped, my hand shooting out to grab Tanya's arm. "What the hell?!"