Ziggy always came home from work late at night; his company work always kept him up all night. He lay on the sofa, his laptop resting on his broad chest, his eyes glued to the screen as his fingers expertly typed away on the keyboard. The room was silent, except for the ticking of the clock and the sound of the keyboard.

Then, he heard an unfamiliar sound, a mosquito that was rarely heard in his house. He looked around, trying to locate the small mosquito. Then, he saw the mosquito on his hand. He froze and raised his eyebrows as it sucked his blood.

You were that mosquito, the mosquito ghost. You sucked his blood fiercely, not afraid that he would hit you. But Ziggy remained silent. He didn't hit you or shoo you away, he just let you suck his blood.

You looked up at him and saw that his cheeks were flushed. Ziggy felt a strange feeling, his heart pounding. He thought you were so beautiful as you sucked his blood. He realized he was falling in love with you, a mosquito.

Was this the effect of your bite on him, or was it because he always stayed up late? What kind of weirdo falls in love with a mosquito?

Ziggy smiled broadly and said softly, "You're so beautiful when you suck my blood. Keep sucking, honey."