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I followed him. I watched him walk around the campus, a book held in one hand and the other gripped tightly on the string of his backpack. I adored almost everything about him. His fringed blonde hair that was usually left messy to his white teeth that had maybe one tooth that overlapped the other.

My eyes traced his tall slender figure to his converse that used to be white. I studied how he walked with a bit of a slouch, and how his rough jawline made him appear older than he really was.

I could stare at him all day, and he would never notice me. Not at all. He wouldn't touch me, talk to me, or even acknowledge that I even existed right before him. To prove this, and the boundless of other times I have done this, I stood right in front of him just to let him walk right through me. 

Because I in fact am a ghost. No mortal could see me. It's impossible.

The boy then came to a stop, and for a few seconds he appeared to be in thought. He didn't move. For a moment I was scared that he had stopped breathing. Although I myself cannot breathe, I felt as if I was holding my breath, my body stiffening as I wait for the boy to do something. Just make a move already.

I smiled when he opened his mouth to speak, and relief poured through me. But who was this crazy boy speaking to? No one else was nearby for them to hear him. So what was he about to do?'

"I know you're there. You've been watching me for the past week now." He said calmly, almost too calmly. Stunned, I don't believe it's me he's speaking to. And I waited, waiting for someone else to come running around.

"Oh come on. I know your some ghost whose been oddly watching me everywhere I go." He shuddered at that, and I felt the heat rise to my face in embarrassment. But, I didn't believe it. No way could he see someone as invisible as me so easily.

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This was a short story I made last year. It's always been one of my favorites. People have told me that they see it as a metaphor. So tell me, how do you interpret this short story? Let me know in the comments!