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a short horror story by

Kaye George


Copyright © 2011 by Kaye George

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It had taken months to convince Leonard to move into the building my family owned. He said it would make him feel too much like a "kept" man to live in the building my grandparents had bought twenty years ago. But, from the time I was very young, I had looked forward to living in it. Everyone in the family stayed in one of the apartments or another when they were young, before they settled down and bought a house.

My harping on the subject didn't work, but, when the stove started leaking gas and it wasn't fixed after three days, he finally agreed to move.

We moved on a mild, sunny spring day. Leonard threw all the windows open and the curtains floated with the gentle breeze. The traffic noises came in from below, too, but we were too happy to let that bother us.

I was delighted with the master bathroom. It had both a master bath and a powder room. This would be a luxury for us. We'd spent two years in that cramped little two-room walkup on the third floor. Here, even though we were in the fifth floor, there was an elevator that worked and a superintendent who had the appearance of being able to fix broken things. My father had spoken highly of him, so I looked forward to getting quick response when the dishwasher or disposal acted up. Unlike the pokey little place we'd just left.

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