Molly Finnegan was tracking ghosts down.
Not that she believed them. She did not believe everything they had been telling her. For years now. She just wanted to talk. So Molly Finnegan took several ways to get to them.
She took the stairs, for it was not likely that they would use the elevator to get to the rough. She also took the 17th Avenue, the subway and the easiest way out. Molly Finnegan felt hunted. It was embarrassing not to know where her ghosts were. Or anyone else’s, now that she was being honest. She had the feeling that even they had vanished. Molly Finnegan could not let that happen. There had to be a fulfilled space between the dead and the living. Common sense. A ridiculous condition that prevented most of them from committing suicide.
Molly Finnegan’s father took her out of the bathtub and told her never to do it again.