ghosts

I was with two friends, climbing the stairs to an old apartment above shops, somewhere in a city. The building was aged but, inside, the apartment was furnished with great care. I understood that it belonged to a friend of mine who has a particular gift of finding items of great aesthetic value in vintage stores. She had decorated the apartment with wonderful armchairs and tables and had covered the furniture with elaborately embroidered cloth, mostly in shades of black with vibrant jewel-coloured patterns. We sat at the table and I admired the heavy tablecloth, feeling the quality of the fabric between my fingers. Though there was so much to be admired in the apartment, we could sense a great heaviness about the place. We discussed it, acknowledging the weighty, oppressive feel of the place. Suddenly five ghosts, all men, walked through the wall and into the room. It became apparent that my two friends couldn't see them. The ghosts were of various ages and were transparent grey in colour; otherwise they looked like ordinary men. They said nothing but were evidently melancholy. It seemed that they were stuck here and I wondered if they were the previous occupants of the building or perhaps the original owners of the apartment's furnishings.