real estate agents and potential buyers would sense a damp fog. they could taste it. like powdery ibuprofen that lingered on the tongue for too long.

and no matter how good their vision, upon stepping inside that house, they’d subconsciously blink, or want to rub their eyes. it was so hard to see in that house. the phenomenon could have worked to realtors’ advantage, hiding moldy corners or imperfect window frames, but no buyer wanted to live in a home they couldn’t see straight in. wouldn’t have been right to call it a home, then.

it wasn’t that the house was haunted — so realtors thought. there were no no banging of doors, no flickering of lights. it was a simple issue. it was as if a wizard inverted a swamp inside-out, so that it was indoors. and, as marshes are wont to do, chills crept up on anyone who came in contact with that bitter blue house.