My friend J. told me this story.

Once, a decade or two ago, J. was looking for a decent apartment in New York City. She answered a “roommate wanted” ad for an apartment that seemed suprisingly affordable.

The apartment was spacious. Both of the women living there seemed nice. But at a certain point, one of the women said, “Well, have you showed J. our other roommate?“

J. said, “What “other” roommate?”

The two young ladies took her downstairs. They were laughing uncomfortably. There, on the wooden floor of the living room, was a strange…stain that could only be referred to as “man-size.”

Apparently, the previous occupant of the apartment had died, reaching for the phone to call for help. No one had found his body for a long time. In the meantime, his body had sort of…melted into the floor, providing a permanent stain and indentation in the floor. A frozen moment in time.

And that’s why the apartment was so affordable.

J. did not move in.