Outcast

"Hey Spencer, how about having a drink with us?" said a large, middle-aged man in a supermarket employee uniform. He was talking to a younger-looking, skinnier, black haired man in a similar outfit who had just finished moving some boxes.

The man named Spencer was hesitant. "Sorry, Archie, but I would have to decline. I need to go home early."

The other man called Archie won't seem to have it. "Come on, you've declined every single invitation we've thrown at you," he said. "What's the rush for? You don't have a wife, do you? Or you just can't leave your pet cat alone?"

"It's not that…" Spencer wanted to explain the reason why, but at the same time, he didn't want to. Because of this, he decided to give a vague answer. "I'm just not into staying for so long."

"Was it about the ghosts that you said you saw when you first came here?" Archie asked. "There's no such thing, you know."

"Well…"

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Spencer's mind went back to the first time he started working in the supermarket. He was rather new to the concept of working in such a place, as well as working in general, but he was willing to learn the ropes. He was given the job as, previously; he had helped the owner prevent a certain accident in his store. Spencer had expressed at the time that he didn't have a job yet.

While the establishment itself was a nice place by human standards, he felt that something was off. And indeed there was, as a few ghosts were residents of it.

He had asked people about it, and some of his co-workers said there were rumors that it was previously the burial ground of a renowned family, though he had reason to think that it may have involved something more sinister.

First, the ghosts did not cause so much trouble before, according to the people's stories. Second, the way they looked at him during the times that they have appeared suggested that they were pleading. And who can say that they have passed away peacefully when they kept saying, "Help…"?

He understood them, but he didn't know how to act on it. He did try to talk to the others about it, but he was dismissed as something like a lunatic.

After that, he didn't want to discuss the matter anymore. He was already different from most others given his unique circumstances, and any more humiliation and lack of understanding would be unbearable.

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"Please, I have to go."

He left his workplace in a hurry so that he wouldn't have to answer any more questions or give any more statements. He even wished that he could run quite a ways faster.

He probably could, but he told himself, "I'm human now. I can't do that."

He had no choice, or at least he thought, but to go through the myriad of people, animals, and otherworldly beings that roamed the land that only he could see.

After some time walking, he reached the place that he presently called home, an apartment building run by an old woman who didn't quite like cats, as they gave her allergies. As such, the place was a no-pet zone, just to make it fair and not show any favoritism to those who had non-feline pets.

While he didn't make as much trouble as his neighbors would, he was often a target of suspicion by his landlady. Whenever they met, she would show signs of her allergy, even when there was no cat in sight. He would always be asked by this woman whether he was harboring cats or not, and he would always answer the latter.

It was true that he didn't have any pet cats. However, the other half of the truth would be a bit too much to understand…

Not that he had to explain it or anything. After all, who was the old woman to him?

To avoid unnecessary interactions with her, he went straight to his unit on the second floor every time he came home from work, including this one.

He put his things down on the only table in his minimally furnished unit. He then went to his closet and changed into a more comfortable shirt and a pair of shorts. He thought of cooking himself a meal so he could have some dinner, but he decided to rest a while on the bed first. He was tired, both inside and out, after all.