Josey and I were excited to happen upon a clearly haunted mansion during our trip to the Catskills a few weeks before Halloween. She wanted a closer look, and while I of course went with her, I was admittedly less interested in approaching a gigantic structure that was, without question, collapsing in on itself. So I hung back, suggesting she do the same in a half-assed way, because I knew she wouldn’t and I was aware that I was essentially advising her to have less fun.
I didn't look through the window. I didn't see what she saw, the thing that made us leave with haste.
It was a dark room littered with dusty junk. Light from the waning day shone through a hole in the ceiling. A mattress slumped on the wall to her right. But in the middle of the floor was something that stood entirely separate from the surrounding detritus: a woman's purse.
Who... or what... did the purse belong to?
We figured the answer was "junkies," so we got the hell out of there.