I was down in the basement doing laundry tonight. As I was loading the machine, a young woman named Darlene (who lives on the second floor) came down. She just moved in and we started talking. I have lived here for decades, and she asked me about the building. I told her rumor has it the building is haunted. She laughed: "Shut up."
I told her that in 1969, a man who lived next door to me commited suicide. He jumped out of the window and the next day his body was found in the back in a pile of wet snow. Since then, many residents who have lived in that apartment say they sometimes see a man behind their shoulder when they are looking into the bathroom mirror.
In the 70s on Sunday mornings, the gay guys used to dance in the back courtyard to the soundtracks of different Broadway shows. "West Side Story" was their favorite. Every so often, we hear music back there, and nobody knows from where it is coming.
I told Darlene that tomorrow when she tells people that the night before she spoke in the laundry room to a woman named Marjorie who lives in apartment 8S, they are going to tell her that Marjorie died five years ago. She screamed while laughing: "Now THAT is not funny!"