Chapter 2

But sucking the flavor out of his food wasn't thrilling enough for me.

I started coming up with some next-level pranks.

Like, when he was in the shower, I'd switch the hot water to ice-cold.

He'd just put shampoo in his hair when the water suddenly turned icy cold, making him jolt.

Wrapped in a towel, he rushed out to check the water heater. After inspecting it for ages and finding nothing wrong, he wrapped himself up again and went back to shower.

I was floating nearby, laughing so hard that I almost fell out the window.

Or when he was asleep, I'd yank his blanket right off and let it drop to the floor.

He woke up cold in the dead of night. Half-dazed, he groped around for his quilt but felt nothing.

He sat up, flipped on the light, and found his blanket lying on the floor. He tucked himself back in and drifted off again, only for me to yank it right off him once more.

I did this five times in one night, and he never once suspected anything. He figured he was a restless sleeper and kept kicking the blanket off himself.

I was floating up near the ceiling, watching him get up for the sixth time to pick up his blanket, laughing so hard that I thought my stomach would burst.

After a few seconds, it hit me that I was a ghost, and I didn't have a stomach.

Or when he was at work, I'd hide his documents.

He was sure he'd left them right on his desk, but as soon as he turned away, they'd disappear. He'd search the whole office, sweating like crazy, but still couldn't find them anywhere.

Once I'd had enough fun, I'd slip the documents back onto his desk. He'd turn around, spot them, and stand there, totally confused, thinking maybe he remembered wrong.

Or when he was in a meeting, I'd randomly flip his PowerPoint slides.

Right as he was about to hit the key point, the slide would suddenly skip ahead. He'd freeze, go back, and when he tried to keep talking, it would jump again.

After three times in a row, the folks in the room started whispering and snickering. His face was stormy.

I was floating right next to him, watching him tough it out and finish the presentation, cracking up so hard that I was floating in circles.

Days kept rolling by.

I followed him everywhere, work, home, meals, and sleep, pulling pranks and watching him make a fool of himself. Honestly, it was a pretty fulfilling afterlife.

But gradually, I started picking up on a few things.

For example, when he was eating, he'd sometimes pause and look to his side.

That look was strange, not like he was searching for anything, but more like he was waiting for something.

Or when he got hit with a blast of cold water in the shower, instead of blaming the water heater, he'd look up at the ceiling with this exasperated look, like he was done with it all.

Or when I kept yanking his blanket off, and he finally got fed up, he'd sit up, still wrapped in the blanket, and grumble to the empty room, "Are you done messing with me yet?"

Of course, after saying that, he'd stare blankly for a second, shake his head, and think he must be out of his mind.

Or when I hid his documents, and he couldn't find them, he'd let out a sigh and talk to the empty air, "When you're done messing around, put them back, okay? I need them this afternoon."

And sure enough, not long after, the documents would show up back on his desk.

He didn't look surprised at all, nodding and speaking. "Thanks."

I was floating nearby, but something felt weird.

Could he actually know I was here?

No way, I had never let him see me. How could he possibly know?

If he really did know, why would he let me keep pulling all these pranks? He would've gotten some exorcist to kick me out ages ago.

After a moment, I shook it off, figuring I was being paranoid.

He was talking to himself out of habit. It was totally normal; everyone did it. I tried to convince myself.

*****

But things took a turn about a month later.

That day, a new colleague joined Liam's company, Emma Lewis.

She was pretty, with dimples when she smiled and a soft, warm way of speaking. She was the type you couldn't help but like.

She was especially enthusiastic about Liam.

On her first day, she brought him coffee. The next day, she brought him breakfast. On the third day, she invited him to lunch. And on the fourth day, she suggested they head home together after work.

I was floating nearby, watching her basically wear her crush on her face, and for some reason, it bugged me.

I couldn't tell why I was annoyed. I just was.

At lunchtime, Emma came over to Liam again, hoping to get him to eat with her. "Liam, there's a new restaurant downstairs from the office. Want to check it out together?"

Liam glanced up at her, looking uninterested. "I brought my lunch."

"What about tomorrow?"

"I've got lunch for tomorrow, too."

"What about the day after tomorrow?"

"I've got lunch for the day after tomorrow, too."

Emma paused for a second, then laughed, "You bring your lunch every single day?"

"Yeah."

"Mind if I try some? Your lunch always looks delicious."

Liam shot her a look but stayed silent.

I was floating nearby when an idea hit me.

Since she wanted to mooch some food, I would give her a chance.

Liam opened his lunchbox, showing off the bento he'd made that morning, including rolled omelet, fried chicken, broccoli, and rice. It looked absolutely mouthwatering.

Emma leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "Wow, that looks delicious."

Liam slid the lunchbox over to her. "Go ahead, try some."

Emma picked up a piece of fried chicken and took a bite.

I swooped in and drained all the flavor out of that fried chicken.

Emma chewed, her face looking a bit awkward.

"What's wrong?" Liam asked.

"Oh, it's nothing." Emma forced a smile. "It's really good."

She picked up a piece of omelet.

I swooped in and drained the taste right out of it again.

Emma looked more uncomfortable.

She reached for a piece of broccoli.

I swooped in and sucked the flavor right out of it again.

Emma set down her fork, forced a laugh, and said, "Uh, I guess I'm not really hungry. I'll head back to work."

She got up and walked off.

I watched her walk away and couldn't help but smirk triumphantly.

Since she wanted to mooch off his lunch, I granted her the pleasure of tasting how bland ghost-sucked food really was.

Liam watched Emma walk away, glanced down at his lunchbox, then looked up right where I was hovering.

He didn't say a word, but his lips curled up a bit.

It was so subtle, blink, and one would miss it.

But I caught it.

I was hanging there in the air, and for a second, my heart totally skipped a beat.

Was he actually smiling?

No, he definitely wasn't smiling due to my prank.

He couldn't see me. How could he smile at me?

I must be paranoid.