Ghost of Mine

See

I stare at him as he breathes slowly. His chest slowly rises and falls in a steady rhythm that makes me breathe along with him. I don’t need to, but I do it anyway. It seems so peaceful.
He grunts once, and then reaches up and rubs his nose.

I smile. He looks so cute when he wakes up. He’s so reluctant and slow, but at the same time he obviously hates just lying around. The way he keeps moving inch after inch every two seconds is a sure sign that he’s slowly waking up and realizing that no; he can’t fall back asleep. So he gets up.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks straight ahead.

His eyes open wide and he stares.

At me.

I quickly disappear. I look away from him and close my eyes briefly, wishing myself away.

When I open my eyes, I’m on the other side of him. He’s got his back to me, but his head is moving rapidly from side to side – searching.

I can’t let him see me. The last person I showed myself to screamed bloody murder and pulled out a knife from her drawer. She started yelling at me – not to my face, since she could no longer see me – and told me to get out of her house. I showed myself a few more times to her before she left. This is my house. Bitch.

“I saw him,” he mumbles to himself. If it wasn’t for my ghostly ears, I wouldn’t have heard him.

Suddenly he jumps out of bed. Only wearing his boxers, he runs out of his room and across the hall. He stops in front of his easel, looks around panicked and then quickly retrieves a big, white canvas. He places it on the easel, turns to grab a pencil and then starts throwing grey lines all over; in all directions.

I tilt my head and observe. I won’t disturb him. He is so focused – so intense.

I wonder if he’ll be able to draw me this time.
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[Insert classic excuse here]
I've discovered that this beautiful song fits perfectly to this story.