The power was off there, the wife had returned late, and wanted me to come up with her while she showered. That apartment had problems, needed quite a bit of work and so often sat empty for months at a time. “Anyway, once while the bathroom was being renovated, my wife and I had been forced to use the apartment upstairs for showers. “Titty pink, monkeyshit brown, babyshit yellow.” “It’s part of the People’s palette,” I replied to her unspoken comment. We lived in the lower apartment, quite nice, even though the old woman who had lived there before had decorated the bathroom with plush pink carpet, and what visitors typically described as titty pink paint on the walls.” “The house my ex and I used to live in is split into two apartments, one upstairs, one down. She sighed, which I took to mean yes, so I began the story. “Honest to goodness true,” I answered, taking my hand off the wheel to cross my heart. “Wanna hear a true ghost story?” I asked her. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, looking uneasy in the passenger seat. “You saw the Shining didn’t you?” I asked her, taking my eyes from the road. “I don’t like little children ghosts,” Miss Bronwen said with a shudder. James, Suffolk County, Long Island, New York
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