Like most people, I immediately toss junk mail in the trash. As a childless vegetarian, I don’t need KFC coupons or help getting my kid into an ivy league school. And all those glossy apartment fliers just give me square foot envy. Why bother? Besides, I’m betting (hoping) that the Hong Kong real estate market bubble pops just before we have to renegotiate our lease. That’ll teach my bitch of a landlady. God, I hate her.

I was literally throwing my junk mail away when this sad, little flier caught my eye. The sloppily folded piece of inexpensive white paper was taped shut. Child labor.

“Who the hell is going to look at this?” I thought while opening it.

I quickly realized that the advertised apartment was for a unit in my building. And at 50% off market price!

“Fully fitted kitchen”. Fine, go on…

“Greenery view.” I prefer the Hong Kong skyline to views of the green hills, but OK…

“New flooring and good layout.” Nice. Can you rent or do you have to buy?

And just when I was imagining myself with my morning coffee, staring at the lush, peaceful slopes, the majestic peak, I read, “A murder case occurred in this flat before. If you don’t mind, please call us for details.”

Don’t mind!? Don’t mind!!?? I don’t mind having a greenery view. I don’t mind having a smaller kitchen. I don’t even mind the smell of my neighbor’s housekeeper deep-frying pork buns (OK, I do). But yes, I do mind that a murder was committed in the apartment.

I read about this murder last year (blogged about it too). A deranged man chopped his mother to death thinking she was a Japanese spy. Uh-huh. They found him wandering the hallway in his boxers. They found her lying in a pool of blood. “New flooring” my naturally brown ass! That place needs an exorcism.

I know it’s common, popular even, to be agnostic about all things spiritual. I know few people who claim a spiritual side, and fewer still who attend church or go to temple–the Jewish variety or the Eastern Religion varieties. Call me superstitious, but I do believe in things that go bump in the night. I know there are things that cannot be explained. I’ve experienced them.

Choosing to live in a flat where a son murdered his mom is like me choosing to sleep in a dark, windowless bedroom decorated with toy clowns.

I know that the unit has been on the market for a while now. 50% off reeks of desperation. The locals might know a good bargain when they see one, but they ain’t dummies.

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