Phantoms, I swear that's what they are. The noisiest of phantoms to be more specific. I'm not sure how many are there, or if there are children or not, but I do know their living room sits directly above ours, and they walk like the dead. Footsteps heavy enough to leave an impression on the moon. Iron shoes. In the afternoon, I hear furniture knocking. I don't want my imagination to run wild, but its seriously unnerving. I would like to think they follow the ancient art of feng shui, arranging their home accordingly. Their couch is never in the right spot, because they push and pull it in every direction, causing my ceiling to rumble like the tracks under a train suddenly breaking. Drywall cracks and dust floats down like the first blanket of snow. I'm exaggerating. This is just about all I know of them right now, but it's fair to say they aren't half as bad as the people in apartment 815.
Also, Thursday the dorm residents will be moving into town. This lack of silence now will be golden in no time.
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