I’ve been a waitress at this small diner for over four years. Most nights are routine—refills, orders, and tired smiles. But last Thursday night was different.
A man came in late. Hoodie up, quiet. He sat at Table 6 and ordered only a coffee. Black. No cream, no sugar.
Didn’t say much. Just nodded politely.
When he left, I went to clear his table… and saw he’d left a tip under the mug.
It wasn’t money.
It was a folded napkin with something scribbled on it.
Curious, I picked it up and opened it, expecting a thank-you or maybe a number.
But instead, it read:
“If you’re reading this… it means you’re in danger. Don’t go home tonight.”
My pulse spiked. I looked around—nothing. Just the flicker of the kitchen light and the buzz of the neon sign.
Was it a joke? A prank? But something in his eyes before he left… I couldn’t shake it.
I showed the napkin to the cook. He laughed it off.
But I didn’t.
I stayed at the diner until morning. Just in case.
When I finally got home, the front door was slightly open.
The lock—broken.
The police said someone had tried to break in.
No fingerprints. Nothing taken.
Just a sign someone had been there.
To this day, I have no idea who that man was…
But I never ignore a weird tip again.
