Rental Ghosts in Disguise

That was years ago, and I look back on it now with mixed feelings.

At that time I was living in a house rented by one person. Across the street there was an old building of the same color. Every night I would spend a long, boring night with binoculars peering into the lives of the various people across the street.

There were always empty rooms in the building. But one day a young woman moved in there. The woman was ugly, but had many flowers on her balcony, colorful and very beautiful. She liked to wear dark purple dresses, but this one didn't suit her very well. She was dark-skinned, her eyes were wide open, and her body was so fat that she was really unattractive - even to an empty, bored man like me. Sometimes she was doing gymnastics on the balcony, saw me appear on the balcony as well, and immediately went back to her room and closed the door, with an apparently closed personality.

There were several times when I couldn't peer into her room with my binoculars. The room was exquisitely furnished. The beautiful double bed took up most of the room, and it was covered with a colorful bedspread. Strangely enough, there were actually two pillows placed on the bed, which were embroidered with beautiful floral patterns. The woman lay on the bed every day, patting her face with her hands as if she was wearing a mask over and over again, and there was no sign or scent of a man in the room. Bored and disappointed, I put down my binoculars. This monotony of her life was suddenly broken one day.

On this day, I was surprised to see the shadow of a man appearing in her window. I hastily raised my binoculars. It was a decent man, dressed neatly in clean, light-colored clothes, with a warm smile on his face. They were sitting together drinking tea and talking. The ugly woman seemed excited; her hands were a little shaky, but her face was full of vigor.

The man is rude. The woman closes the door and she covers her chest as if something bulging in there is about to pop out. After a while, l saw a woman get up and fling herself at the door like a show. Her arms embrace her as if she's hugging something, an empty embrace. Then she leaned her lips against the door in a kissing gesture. She closed her eyes. For a long time, l didn't know what was happening. l wanted to laugh a little, and l was in an indescribable mood.

The next day, I saw her do this often, each time with enthusiasm, like a wildfire with dew. Once, she slept in her bed, folded the quilt around her in the shape of a baguette, and actually hugged and kissed it. The look on her face was like she was kissing her skin, not the cold quilt, but her passionate lover. I remembered seeing a similar scene in a Hitchcock movie, but I couldn't picture it in any way. There are such clear, vivid images in life.

One night, I was in my room reading fashion magazines, and the sultry beauties in the magazines made me feel uneasy. Suddenly, I heard a cry. The cry was at first subdued and low, and gradually became choppy. I immediately picked up my binoculars and looked at the building across the street.

The single woman was lying on her bed crying. She desperately grabbed the covers and smeared snot and tears on them. She grabbed the mirror next to her pillow and dropped it to the floor. The sound of the mirror falling to the floor traveled from a distance to my heart, which was weak. She then rolled to the floor under the bed and cried, covering her face with her hands against the floor. I think her tears must have wet the light brown black floor.

After this day, this ugly woman across from me disappeared and a fashionable woman moved in there. She had red lips and white teeth and sparkling eyes, so beautiful that she almost rivaled the women I had seen in the pictorials. She also watered the flowers and did her morning exercises on the balcony every morning like the ugly woman. Strangely enough, the room was the same as when the original ugly woman lived there, the original furniture and furnishings had not changed, nor had she moved. Maybe she was a relative or friend of the ugly woman.

I must admit that since this beautiful lady has been living across the street from me, she has raised her binoculars with unprecedented frequency. Every day, I struggle with excitement and greed, my eyes swell and my arms ache and I don't get tired. In the binoculars, I watched as, intermittently, the figures of some men began to appear in the room of this beautiful woman across the hall from me. They all seemed to be refined, decent men. All, apparently, were her suitors.

She circled among them, swimming into the damp sea like a fish on the shore, and was very happy. I say this because of the look on her face, the innocence and intoxication that appears when a neglected girl is suddenly praised by an adult. There was something new, something unnatural, and unaffordable in the power of this pampered smile.

Ah, I see the man! The man who came out of the former ugly girl's house! He talked and laughed with her, and greeted her with his own glass. They touched glasses. Then all the other men left, leaving him and her. Oops, he was going to kiss her! Quickly, she turned her hand to his neck, looked up and closed her eyes. At this moment, lightning struck my brain. I felt so familiar with the pretty woman's movements. It seemed like I had seen it somewhere, but I couldn't remember for a moment.

This man came to her cabin every day, and they seemed to have become close as man and woman. I saw them eating, dancing and laughing together. One day the man lay on her bed. She lay beside him, hugged him, and kissed his face. For some reason, I thought this action looked familiar too. She was so hard, so excited, and it fully showed her true, fervent love for this man.

But what struck me as strange was that the men went away, and whenever she stayed alone, she drew the curtains tightly, with a mysterious air. Every night I took my binoculars and looked at the curtains through the light and wondered what she was doing.

That light is often dimly lit until midnight. What she's doing.

Finally, one day, it was a night with no moon or stars. The wind was very strong. Because of the heat, she didn't close her windows, just drew the curtains very tightly. I raised my binoculars and watched her window nervously. It was already the middle of the night and the wind was coming in tides like the ocean. Suddenly, her curtains were swept open by the wind to reveal a corner of the interior.

I held my breath and looked. She was sitting in front of a lighted mirror with something ripped from her face. Slowly, laboriously, she tore at it. Soon a whole paper-like thing was dragged out. Ah, so her face was the ugly one! The torn off lips were red and white, the skin of a delicate human being! I nearly fainted and hastily closed my eyes ....... I breathed a sigh of relief, fixed my eyes, and watched her, no, the ugly woman looked into the mirror with a mysterious and deep expression, which seemed to contain sadness. But I couldn't see it clearly. Her expression was as vague as a cloud in the wind ......

I don't remember much after that. I just remember, frozen, throwing down the binoculars, going back to my room and falling on the bed. I smoked cigarettes all night in a mood of fear and worry. Then, I quickly packed my bags and before dawn, left that house and never came back.