Phantom of the Apartment

Nostalgia Café

The trio emerged into the bright street below, squinting and shielding their eyes against the sun. On the way down the stairs they had managed to finally pick a place to grab a snack before starting their stake out. The place of choice was a small café that Thomas swore had the best pastries humanity had ever created. ("So good," he'd said, "that if this were a Greek myth, Zeus would have the bakers chained to rocks and given the Prometheus treatment for daring to feast like gods." Although his analogy was met by eye rolls from the other two, it eventually inspired enough curiosity to settle the discussion.) Once they got outside however, the topic of discussion moved from where they were going to how they were actually supposed to get there. Rebecca turned to Jason. "So, are you driving?"

He shifted awkwardly between his feet. "I, uh, I don't have a car."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "What, do they not give out licences to owls anymore? Dark times indeed."

Thomas, however, glanced over at Jason with a mix of pity and concern on his face. "Still?"

Jason returned the glance with a glare before turning his attention back to Rebecca. He knew he was being unfair, but if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was how people looked at him as though he were made of cracking glass. "I don't like driving," he said.

"He's afraid of driving," Thomas corrected, ignoring the icy look the statement earned him.

Rebecca frowned and looked over Jason for a moment before asking the question. "Is there a reason why?"

Shattering glass, twisting metal, flashing lights reflected by the rain-soaked asphalt. Red, white, red, white, red, red, red. He blinked slowly for a moment and the images faded, retreating to their place in the farthest corners of his mind. "Well, I got in a car accident once. It wasn't too bad, but... Uh, if its alright with you, I'd rather not talk about it."

Rebecca waved her hands. "No, no! It's fine." She paused for a moment, trying to work out what a supportive friend would say next. In the end, she turned away and began half-walking-half-marching up the street. "We'll go on foot! Don't groan at me, Thomas, it's good exercise! C'mon." They followed a decent distance behind her, hoping for the sake of their pride that she was either invisible or people would assume they weren't affiliated. Once she was out of earshot, Thomas had shot him an incredulous glance.

"Wasn't too bad? Are you joking?" he asked.

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Jason muttered through gritted teeth. "Hurry up or we'll loose Rebecca. God knows she won't slow down." With that, he increased his pace and wove through the busy street. Eventually, the group reached a small café on a street corner. As Jason took in the pink and orange umbrellas and flowery wording on the banner, he was struck by a sudden realization. "Hey, I've been here before!"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "It's not all that far from the apartment. Of course you've been here."

"No, no. It's not that." He paused, racking his brain as he tried to place the sense of irony. The reason hit him like a brick. "Oh! I know! This is where I came with Ms. Fields! "

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Who?"

"Ms. Fields. The previous owner of my— sorry, our apartment. Right before I bought the place, she met me here to tell me it was haunted." He chuckled. "I didn't believe her, of course."

"Well," Rebecca said with a smirk, "here you are now. With the ghost. How does it feel to be proven so horribly wrong?"

"Kinda nice, to be honest."