“You really remind me of Daft Punk.” I spoke aloud one day. “You have the same helmet as Guy-Manuel with the smooth exterior.” I practically was talking to myself since Ghost was staring out the window. I had a small alcove by the window where the wood was cushioned for comfort. That’s where I liked to reside when reading or writing but it became Ghost’s favorite hangout spot. They reminded me of any anime character from any trope, almost laying across something with their fist resting against their cheek. It was a cold morning with our first signs of snow.
“Ghost, do you have a face underneath your mask?”
No response. I walked over to where they were and studied their backside. The long locks draped across their shoulders, the metal ends of their wired portions clinking against the wood.
“Is the mask your face?” I didn’t know what to expect with asking these questions, fully knowing that there would be no response that I could understand. The soft breathing from Ghost was strangely comforting. I walked over to the stilled figure and stood quietly. To humans, it would be rude to just reach out and take something off of someone. Would it be the same for this creature? I figured if I wasn’t careful, this docile apparition would turn if threatened.
Ghost turned and glanced at me, my reflection greeting me in their infinite black helmet. My hand reached out, touching the cool material. Ghost did nothing with this action. The helmet felt attached to its skin; ripping it off like a bandage would probably be excruciatingly painful. My temptation faltered, my hand falling back to my side. Ghost continued to stare me down.
“Maybe one day, but today is not the day.”
A question mark was my response. It was Ghost’s favorite answer.
“Don’t worry about it, Ghost.” My eyes turned to the slightly frosted window, shivering from the snowfall. “Can’t believe we have snow already.” I reached for a nearby blanket and wrapped myself in it, tight and warm. A pixelated pulsing heart morphed from the question mark. “Do you like the snow?” I chuckled. “Man, I wish I was like you. I don’t like it. It’s too cold.” We enjoyed each other’s presence for a few moments. The heart on Ghost’s helmet was merely electric but to me, I could almost feel something in resemblance to heat. Maybe I was just that cold that any warmth was what my body tried to latch onto. Sitting next to Ghost, I asked, “Do you want to listen to Daft Punk?”