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The Weeping Woman
A friend back east related to me that in early 2008 while he and his young son were eating dinner by themselves, the boy began pointing to the kitchen, repeatedly asking his father, "Who's that?"
"Who's who?" my friend asked, looking around.
"Where?"
"Right there!" his son insisted.
"A lady.
Why is she crying?"
My friend was at a loss, being unable to see or hear anyone apart from themselves.
On another occasion the son saw the weeping woman outside in their apartment building's parking lot, then back inside their living room, and that these visitations have happened two or three times after that.
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