The building we are touring does not appear on Google Street View. Instead, there is a photo of a large pit under construction. If we move there, we will cease to exist. Our photos will begin to fade ala Marty McFly.
Ghosts. Any.
We will absorb the depressed, alcoholic vibe of the modern one-bedroom with the stained white carpeting. Vertical blinds that conceal the tiniest of balconies covered in black Seattle mold. Perhaps a rusted hibachi.