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"Did you ever tell him?" he asked.
"Never got the chance. One day, he was gone. Left a note saying he'd moved to San Francisco. By the time I mustered enough courage to go find him, it was too late for me. I was...well, stuck here."
"Wow, I can't even imagine what that must've been like."
I shrugged. "Life was complicated then. Hell, it's complicated now, seeing that I'm a ghost haunting your apartment.”
Logan looked puzzled. “Earlier, you did say time was different for you. How does it work?”
Ah, the million-dollar question. "Imagine living inside a snow globe. You can see everything happening outside—the seasons change, people age, technology advances—but you're stuck in a perpetual swirl of snowflakes. Past, present, future—they all blend together."
It was true. In my state, I'd seen men land on the moon and phones evolve into pocket-sized supercomputers, but the memories that struck me the most were those from my living years. Like sneaking into a drive-in movie with Henry, or dancing at the earliest discos to escape the monotony of everyday life.
"I miss it, you know," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "The smell of fresh rain on asphalt. The way laughter filled a room. Those tiny slivers of happiness that made being alive so—so intoxicating."
As I spoke, I felt more visible, as if my emotions were lending me a weight I usually lacked. And for a few seconds here and there, I could almost feel the heat from Logan's skin, the atmosphere between us charged and electric. A spectral heart, if I had one, would be racing.
Time, that cruel and relentless force, had both grounded and betrayed me. Decades felt like mere moments, yet seconds could stretch into lifetimes. The years I'd spent on the ghostly plane had made me wistful but also hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, something—or someone—could still surprise me.
Was that why I ended up with Logan? His skepticism was like a match waiting to ignite, sparking my own imagination. What would it be like to live a life where he could see me, hear me, touch me?
I looked at him, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and—dare I say—affection. I felt an urge, an itch under my spectral skin, to reach out and touch him.
For the first time in decades, or what felt like it, I wanted to feel the electricity of a human touch, to share a tangible moment. Maybe, just maybe...
"Watch," I whispered, concentrating with every fiber of my being—or lack thereof. I focused on my reflection in a mirror on the living room wall, willing it to solidify, to become more than a translucent version of a man.
My outline grew denser, and my features sharpened as if someone was turning the focus knob on an old camera. For a split second, I saw it—my hand reaching toward him. I think my fingertips trembled.
The air in the room dropped in temperature, a raw chill that made Logan hug himself. "Holy—what's happening, Ben?"
I tried to hold the form, hanging onto that fragment of physicality, but it was like trying to catch smoke in your hands. My image flickered, wavered, and then dispersed into a misty haze.
I’d vanished completely. It took a few minutes of concentration to bring myself back to ghostly form.
"Damn it," I muttered, frustration seeping into my voice.
Logan looked both amazed and concerned, the atmosphere between us thick with unspoken thoughts and feelings. "You almost had it. That was... that was incredible, Ben."
The ache of what could've been pulsed through me. There we were—so close. For a fleeting moment, the boundaries between us had almost given way.
We were both speechless.
Logan broke the silence. "This is insane, talking to a ghost, but it's also the most real conversation I've had in a long time."
His words hit me like a tidal wave, sweeping away years of ghostly detachment. Was it possible? Could Logan be the catalyst, the missing element in my existence that I hadn't known I was searching for?
I stared at him, lost in the realm of “what if,” and a new idea flickered to life inside me. What if he was my chance at something new?
"Logan," I finally spoke, "I think this is the beginning of a very interesting chapter for both of us."
And in that moment, I felt a shift in the very fabric of my being, as if the universe itself had just turned a page.
Logan
The air was heavy with the salt of dreamy oceans and the scent of night-blooming flowers. At least it was in the setting for my dream about Ben.
He was leaning against a lighthouse under a night sky full of shining stars, laughing as he told me some story about ghostly misadventures.
