I had a part time job cleaning a foundry. The caretaker, a drinking mate of the previous cleaner, had committed suicide on the premises and old Tommy swore he haunted the place. He resigned and I got the job.
One night I was carrying a bucketful of rubbish through the almost completely dark foundry, thinking about Tommy and his haunted building, when a cat leapt from a moulding at my feet. My legs were still running when my body stopped at the back wall of the foundry.
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