Down in the South Bay for a conference and looking at all the big shiny buildings (and stadiums) where I grew up definitely make me nostalgic. What about the ghosts still around?

The woman in the flapper dress stood on the corner and stared at the gleaming office building as cars drove by without noticing. A man in khaki pants and Patagonia vest over a polo shirt zoomed dangerously past on an electric scooter without paying her any mind.

“Margaret? What are you doing out here?” a man with an unkempt long beard asked. He wore dingy jeans, worn boots and a dirty shirt under a rough leather coat.

“Henry?” She asked. “Is that you?”

“Yep, it’s me,” he said as he let out a huge yawn.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in… I don’t know… ten years?”

“Well, I took a nap,” he scratched his beard.

“For ten years?”

“Did I mention how hard working the goldfields were?”

“Every chance you get,” she rolled her eyes.

He scowled through his overgrown facial hair but the overall effect was more comical than gruff.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

She tilted her head at him. “Henry, a lot has changed while you’ve been napping!”

“Yeah? Like what?” he asked oblivious to the Uber that pulled to the curb beside him and two interchangeably dressed tech workers got out and walked right through him on their way to the office building entrance.

“Look at our house!” Margaret gestured at the office tower.

Henry turned slowly and upon eyeing the glass and steel building he let out a low whistle. “Well, ain’t that something!”

“That was our home!” Margaret said, her voice cracking with emotion. “That boarding house is where I was killed!”

“Me too!” Henry nodded. “Shot while playing cards.”

“Cheating at cards, if I remember correctly,” Margaret corrected him.

“Who told you that? They’re a damn liar!” he said defensively.

“It doesn’t matter…” she wiped at her eyes. “It’s all gone!”

“Welcome to my world,” the dark-skinned man wearing deerskin leggings and a bare chest said ruefully.

“It’s the injun!” Henry said in mock surprise.

“Muwekma Ohlone, asshole,” the man said.

“Henry, stop being mean to Asatsa. We’re all upset here.”

“I don’t see what y’all are upset about! That place was a shithole!”

“But it was our shithole!” Margaret said “And now we have… nothing.”

“Well… that’s not quite true…” Asatsa said.

“Our house is gone!” Margaret said.

“Do you know how long my house has been gone?” Asata asked. “But I haunted that lousy flophouse for decades!”

“Your point?” Margaret asked.

“Yeah,” Henry rubbed his beard. “Our Muwekma Ohlone friend has the right idea.”

“Which is?” Margaret asked exasperated.

“We march into that metal and glass monstrosity…” Asatsa started.

“And haunt the holy living shit out of it!” Henry said.

“But it’s so… cold,” Margaret stared at the anonymous façade.

“We’re dead,” Asatsa said. “Let’s go be colder and scare some tech bros!” He started for the entrance then stopped and looked back at the two standing on the sidewalk still. “Coming?”

“We can’t bring it back,” Henry said. “Might as well scare the living that are here.”

Margaret sighed. “Oh, alright,” she said. “Let’s scare the khakis off them!”