I did a double take, and true to the ephemeral laws that constitute her, she was gone before my eyes could again settle.
I spoke up.
“Dude, Randall, is your place haunted?” I asked my friend, not daring to look away from the shadowy, muted corner at the end of the hallway where the materialization had occurred.
“No.” He said flatly.
“I’m not usually a Ghost Buster, but I think I just saw one.”
“This place isn’t haunted.”
“Hm.” I thought for a moment. “Do you think it’s her first day?”
Randall looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, everyone—or thing—has to have a first day at some point. Like, a house just can’t have always been haunted. Maybe it’s her first day of haunting us here."
“But why would she choose us? And an apartment? Nobody’s died here.”
I shrugged. “Why the hell not? I just hope she’s not nervous if it is her first day.”
Randall scoffed. “You’re feeling sympathy for a ghost whose probable intent is to terrify us? And more-so me, since it’s my apartment?”
“Well, it’s not like we can just ask her to leave. But maybe she’s nice, like Casper. We should give her the benefit of the doubt. It’s her first day.”
Randall didn’t say anything.
“Plus she was kinda hot. Sucks that she’s dead.”