She's been seeing those things since she was little.
The little boy squatting at the bottom of the stairs, the woman in a floral skirt standing by the window holding a bowl all her life, the old man sitting on the mat at the door waiting for dawn - they don't hurt anyone, they just can't go away.
No one believed her. She didn't say anything either.
On the first day I moved into the old building, the little boy was still there. The next morning, he was gone.
The quiet young man on the fourth floor seemed to know something. Later she discovered that he could make the obsession dissipate, and she could hear why the obsession stayed here. They live in the same building, one is on the third floor and the other is on the fourth floor.
There are always people with the same frequency in this world, who can share the same frequency and suffer the same sorrow, and then finally don't have to bear it alone.
Intention: Those regrets that have not been spoken can be heard