Tomoya and I played a dozen horror-themed video games late into the night.

I knew he picked out all my favorites just to make me feel better.

Something about cutting down a bunch of feckless teenagers in the darkness of a misty forest, with a roaring chainsaw, albeit in a virtual world- felt very soothing.

And rather than debate the merits of going to a private school versus a combination of home study and online education, I planned on stealing Tomoya's workbooks and hiding them around the house.

Obviously, that admittedly childish strategy wouldn't dissuade him from going to school every weekday.

But it would make me feel a lot better about being stuck in the house all by myself, if you don't count Tomoya's stay-at-home mom.

When two hours had passed after midnight, Tomoya finally put down his controller, stretched out like a mewling cat, and jumped into his bed.

He tossed and turned for awhile and then opened his eyes.

I was floating a couple meters in the air above him, waiting for him to fall asleep.

"I've been thinking..." He began.

"That's unusual." I teased.

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"Why don't you come with me to school tomorrow?"

"Why not today?" I mused.

He knitted his brow and sleepily asked, "What do you mean?"

"Don't you have to wake up in four hours? I might not be good at math, but I'm pretty sure that 'fours hours later' and 'tomorrow' aren't the same thing."

He yawned and said, "Don't be pedantic. Tell me what you think about going to school together."

I hesitated.

Normally, I'd follow him everywhere.

But in a crowded place there were always 'those people'.

I'm not sure what to call them.

They could hardly be called mystics. And they were by no means clairvoyant.

And yet, somehow they could sense my presence.

Unfortunately, there really was no way to tell the difference between a regular person, living out their days, oblivious to the spiritual happenings around them, and 'those people' whose senses were extraordinarily keen.

Of course, they couldn't actually see me.

At most I appeared as a vague, blurry mist before their eyes. And even if I screamed at the top of my non-existent lungs, all they would hear is a faint whisper.

So, why bother with precautions?

The answer lies in what those people chose to do when faced with an eerie, inexplicable feeling.

What would you do if you had the weird sensation that someone was standing right in front you but you couldn't see them?

You'd whip out your phone and casually pretend to take a selfie, snagging that dignified ghost in your bokeh-filtered antics.

Fifty years ago, it wouldn't have mattered, but in today's day and age we are cursed with an unceasing deluge of shameless selfies.

By itself, a few, blurry photos wouldn't mean anything. But when posted online, a bunch of finger jocks would rush in to critique and investigate the origins of that mysterious blurry figure.

While tracking down an intrepid ghost like myself was no easy task, finding Tomoya was as simple as typing out his name and tapping the 'search' button.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that simple. There are probably like a gazillion Tomoyas out there.

But I don't want Tomoya to risk getting into trouble on my account.