I moved into a new apartment.
Corner room on the first floor. It has a good location and good sunlight. I have no complaints.
The first day I moved in, I had a drink with my friends who helped me.
The next day, early afternoon. After my friends left, I took a shower.
One of my friends smoked cigarettes and I was worried about the smell in my hair.
My hair was my pride and joy. Straight black hair that had never been permed or colored. I never missed taking care of it.
I finished shampooing, treating, and conditioning my hair that day, and left the bathroom feeling refreshed.
Now, it was time to clean up after last night.
As I was cleaning up the mess of snack bags and empty bottles and vacuuming, I noticed something strange.
There are long hairs falling out of the floor.
It was just as long as mine, but the hair texture was different.
None of my friends were women with long hair, and I had just moved into a room…?
I wondered a bit, but settled on the conclusion that it must be my own hair.
Today, a friend who couldn’t come to help me move yesterday is coming to visit.
When I received a call from my friend that she had arrived at the nearest station, I went to the station.
The friend was known to be highly psychic.
I wasn’t particularly concerned about my hair, so I went back to my apartment, talking about nothing more than a few things.
…?
A long strand of hair had fallen again on the floor of my room. Well, I must have forgotten to take it out earlier. I quickly threw it in the trash.
My friend was visiting from out of town, so of course she was going to stay the night.
I’ll take a shower.
A stranger’s house, my friend immediately went to the bathroom. I hear the sound of a shower.
And suddenly I thought I heard the sound of a faucet being turned off, and my friend came out of the bathroom in a hurry.
“Oh, in the bathroom…”
My friend is blue. I calmed her down for now and then listened to her story.
She said, “There was a woman with long hair in the bathroom!”
This is a newly built apartment building. There can be no such thing as ghosts.
But even after I explained, my friend refused to listen, saying she was going home.
However, we had come a long way, so we couldn’t leave at this time of night.
Anyway, I cannot stay in this room.
I’m going to spend the night at a nearby family restaurant, so if you have any problems, call me immediately.
So saying, my friend left.
I was left alone. I am indeed a bit nervous because of my hair during the daytime.
Don’t worry. This is a new building.
I told myself what I had said to my friend and decided to take a shower.
I guess being “psychic” is a bad idea. You’re ruining people’s move.
While swearing at my friend in my mind and shampooing my hair…I feel a strange sensation on my head.
I massage my scalp with my fingers without clawing it to avoid damaging it…just like I always do. But it doesn’t feel right.
・・・・?
I stopped shampooing.
…!
I brought my hands, which had been on my head, fearfully in front of my eyes.
…!
…as if you were massaging them with your fingertips, without clawing …
Another hand is washing my hair.
Who!”
I turn around and see a woman with a burnt out face (or is it?). with one hand on top of my head…
You…are…beautiful…aren’t…you?
It was definitely a woman’s voice.
I recognized it from the sound of the shower.
I had passed out without rinsing off the shampoo lather, so my hair was stiff.
I didn’t have time to worry about that.
I quickly rinsed off the bubbles and ran out of the apartment in my clothes.
I called my friend on his cell phone from a phone booth and met him at a family restaurant.
I knew it. Let’s ask the real estate agent tomorrow. I’ll follow you.”
The next day, the real estate agent told me this story.
Before the condominium was built, there was one house and a flower shop there.
The florist’s daughter was beautiful and proud of her long hair.
However, a fire broke out in the house.
The gas kettle in the bathroom exploded.
The daughter who was there suffered serious burns on her face and most of her hair, which she was very proud of, was burned off.
The daughter was rejected by her boyfriend and became a recluse.
The only handful of hair that remained was hers, and she took very good care of it.
She shampooed, treated, and rinsed her hair several times a day.
As I combed my hair in front of the mirror.
“… Is my hair pretty?”
“…is my hair beautiful?”
She asked her mother over and over again.
However, due to the emotional shock and over-care of her hair, what little hair she had began to fall out.
The daughter committed suicide by slitting her wrists in the bathroom.
After using up a whole bottle of new hair conditioner that her mother had bought for her at one time.
Just like your daughter, she had beautiful hair.”
The real estate agent looked at me fondly and said.
