I hear a voice. At first, I think it’s from somewhere above me, but then I eye the bin. As I peer down into it, a pair of glistening amber eyes look back from deep within it, as if from another realm. I hear his voice once again.
“Running won’t fix your trash problem, handsome, but maybe you could try kissing me? What have you got to lose?”
He has to be kidding. He isn’t even real, just a figment of my imagination. I pull myself together and gather what I need and then leave.
Of course, my cursed mind would create a man who got me hot and bothered that only I could see. The feeling stung sharper than a slap. I was never lucky in love. And this felt worse than that disastrous date I went on many years ago that had turned into the craziest six weeks of my life. I had no actual evidence, but Iknowmy witch-of-an-ex is the one who cursed me. He promised he would make me pay for leaving him. Just picturing him sends a chill through me, like I can still hear him growling about revenge.
I hear a whisper follow me, just before I shut the door behind me.
“Trash will find you.”
Chapter 4–Binfluencer
Iget through the rest of my shift by avoiding the kitchen and my coworkers, and I one thousand percent avoid any contact with trash, bins or any empty mugs, in case I spontaneously ejaculate all over the damn place. I don’t know what I’d do if he were to appear again and offer to kiss me. Hell, I don’t know what I’d do if he calls me handsome again; I'd rather not find out.
Although avoiding the problem had proven to be difficult when I am the only janitor rostered for the entire building. I keep myself busy doing small, odd jobs around the office, fixing some light bulbs, reporting a broken air vent and even mopping up that mess in the front foyer area that Claudia wanted me to.
I had avoided further encounters with the bin-man. Being outed again for my trash kink-sorry, curse-is not on my agenda to repeat for today. Nor is running out of the building from the shame. I’m not repeating yesterday twice.This is what we call progress, people!
I had shaken off the mixed feelings of horniness meets shame meets fear of a ghost man coming out of a bin entirely.My shift’s getting close to being over - I think I can survive the rest of the day. I’m feeling confident, even though I am in the executive bathroom right now restocking the toilet rolls; some would say this isn’t good, but to me this is far better than taking out the bins right now.
As I finish up and leave, I hear the familiar clacking noise of stilettos behind me as I reach the foyer. I spin around. It’s Claudia.
“Oh, there you are.” She looks spooked. “I thought I was going crazy before when I walked into the closet with you there.”
I blink and almost gulp. Claudia’s my only friend here, and though she doesn’t know my full secret, I have told her about most of my sex life failures. Maybe it is time to let her in on this too?
“Oh, did you see the man standing in the bin as well?”
She pauses and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What? No… but I got such a migraine-inducing energy blast as I walked past that room again. A full-body shiver, third eye aching.” She rubs her temples.
I fumble a replacement toilet roll, and it lands on the floor, rolling to the other side of the room, bouncing off her shoe. My heart skips. I’m relieved. She didn’t see the bin-man, but now I am confused, more than ever. “Energy blast?” I ask her.
She shrugs and casually states that she is sort-of-psychic, as if it were a normal everyday thing. I go to laugh, because, what the fuck? But who am I to judge? I have a freaking trash kink curse, and I’m hallucinating a bin ghost man. Anything’s possible.
She notices that I’m stifling a reaction to her revelation, but she continues to talk like it’s the same as announcing something inane like she changed coffee shops. “I am on the low sensitivity scale, trust me I have been tested. I’m sort of like a spiritual Wi-Fi extender.” She taps her temple.
Tested? Wh… what?
She continues. “I mostly feel vibes. I have occasionally seen ghosts, or what Isuspectare ghosts. One time I channelled a dead pigeon, and the heartbreak I felt made me coo-sob into the cinnamon scroll I was eating.”
“…OK.” It’s all I can say as we both sit on a bench in the foyer. “So, why are you telling me all this? Not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…” I shrug.
“I’m telling you this because you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or something worse, like you got railed by one.”
My entire face ignites, and I stammer out my response. “I have not–he didn’t–that’s not what happened!”
I cover my mouth and look at her with what I think are dinner plates for eyes. Claudia narrows hers. “Oscar.” She says gently, pausing for a few seconds. “You’ve been acting odd. Odder than usual. You know I love you, but I’ve seen you talk to yourself. I see you flinch at bins, and the other day you wouldn’t take my smashed coffee cup to the kitchen.” She points down the hall, and I look and swallow hard, wiping my brow with my forearm.
“And you’re sweating like you just ran a marathon through a haunted landfill.”
So…specific. As usual. I say nothing but look guilty.
She shuffles closer, and the quietness between us is palpable. It is that trusted quietness between friends. I could sit with Claudia and just exist; she always makes me feel comfortable. She never judges me. So, I decide now is the right time to explain my predicament.
“I think.” I start and then shake my head. “No, IknowI’m cursed. I’ve been for years. Looking at trash causes me to… uh.”
“Get aroused?”
