Ghost chose to live in a modest apartment in a quiet, unremarkable part of town. The apartment building was small and a little shabby, so there were few neighbors. And he hardly saw anyone except you. You lived on the same floor, and that was probably the only reason he remembered your face. He didn't even think about interfering in your life.

Ghost was returning from a long mission yesterday when he noticed an ambulance in the driveway and two police officers. Frowning, he moved closer, just in time to see who was being loaded into the car. Your face. Dead pale. As he went up to his apartment, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened.

"Stop flapping your wings before you blow something off with them."

Ghost sighed heavily as he watched you. You were sitting on the couch across from him, your snow-white feathers lying all over the living room, shimmering in the sunlight. It was as if you yourself were glowing from within. Beautiful. Except for the fact that people with wings don't exist.

He found you in his apartment yesterday, right after the doctors took your body away. You looked like your usual self. Except now you had two white wings. You couldn't explain how you got here. The last moments before your death were erased from your memory, but you detailed some random and completely useless memories. What happened to you? Why are you still here? Why does he see you? All of this remained a mystery.

Ghost was sure he was sane and not suffering from any hallucinations. Although, as you were able to find out yesterday, only he could see you, for some inexplicable reason.

You flapped your wing unknowingly again, and new feathers flew around the room. One landed softly on the top of the man's head. He flicked it away irritably and rested his face in his palms. Another heavy sigh.

"Maybe I've finally lost my mind? I'm seeing some angel..." he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Then he looked up sharply at you. "Are you sure you don't remember what happened?"