Ghost Story #39

I lived in NW DC for the second time. Alone, in a large 3 room flat on the 2nd floor of a 3 story building, on a short 2 block street. The whole floor to myself. Heavenly. Walls over a foot thick of brick & cement plaster. Quiet. Aside from the gunshots in the street. Ahh, city life. There were a few odd things though. There was a fire escape at the back door, which was in my bedroom. Creepy. That entire wall was covered by floor to ceiling curtains & had a wardrobe up against ½ the door. You’d have to wedge yourself through if necessary.
My bedroom was at the very end of the very long L shaped hallway. I had to go through the living area, past the open kitchen counter, past the art studio & the bathroom before blindly walking into my bedroom, which had a wall of closet. Had I not been mugged at gunpoint by two men in my house in SE DC a few years before, I might not have had PTSD & none of this would have been an issue. If there were a cat or dog anything other than a plant.
And a male ghost. He was most active as I was trying to wind down from my bartender shifts. (I was already sober) Often he’d walk just a few feet down the hall. Carpet over old wood.
So if I was in bed, it sounded like he was coming in there. If I was in the living room, sounded like he was going from bedroom to studio. Either way, I would have to look over the entire place, just to make sure, right? What if either of the doors were somehow unlocked? 
I still don’t sleep until 3am, sometimes dawn. But now I’m not at the end of the hall.