The ensuing twenty minutes saw Kel utterly transfixed, his ghostiness rendered paralyzed by the significant implications of what had just happened. This living, breathing young student - this passionately bookish stranger whose name he didn't even know - had pierced the veil. Seen him, heard him, acknowledged his existence in defiance of every natural law governing his newfound ghostly state.

As the rest of the class rustled and packed up their notes, a few furtive glances were thrown in the young woman's direction when she had unleashed her annoyed hush-noise. But their quizzical expressions were met with a laser-focused glare, daring any of them to pursue the matter and distract her from her studious objections to Kel's disruption.

The metaphorical bell rang, and the mass exodus from the stepped lecture hall began in earnest. Students filtered out, chatting and comparing notes, grateful for the relief from Adeyemi's excruciatingly painful lessons. The young woman, still vibrating with anxious scholarly intensity, mechanically gathered up her materials, carefully stowing away her notepad and weighty books.

Just as her trainers-adorned feet hit the dimly lit access corridor, Adeyemi's nasally voice reverberated from the front of the amphitheater. "Miss Okafor! A word before you go?"

Kel's observational trance was broken as he watched the young student - Miss Okafor apparently - release a resigned sigh that lifted her shoulders dramatically. She hesitated, that brief soul-baring moment where the weight of eternal student suffering seemed to grip her slouched form. But, ever the diligent academian, she pivoted sharply on her heel and retraced her steps back down toward the lectern.

Kel found his eyes drifting subconsciously in her wake, an unsettling imitation of her ascending the gently inclined steps. They followed her diligently as she stood contritely before the lectern, hands clutching her bookbag with white-knuckled intensity.

"Yes, Professor?" She managed in a tone struggling for deference despite the daydream fatigue audibly fraying its edges.

Whatever observations, criticisms, or complex philosophical thoughts Adeyemi shared were completely lost on Kel. His newly awakened senses remained fixated in awe upon this Miss Okafor and the seemingly impossible way she had become...distinctly aware of his existence in a way mundane reality should certaintly not allow.

Maybe in those lofty academic halls, where minds danced among theories and hypotheses, the laws of existence operated differently. Or perhaps the cosmos had finally grown weary of tormenting Kel with its enigmatic whispers, and now it extended an olive branch, beckoning him toward the answer that had haunted him for so long: "Why?"

He swore to find out.

Miss Okafor stacked her books into her locker with a practiced efficiency, the metal door clanging shut as she secured the latch. But no sooner had the echoes of that metallic report faded than her gaze landed squarely on Kel's grinning face hovering mere feet away.

A strangled yelp of surprise leapt from her throat, shattering the semi-hushed ambiance of the hallway. Nearby students swiveled in bewildered curiosity, eyes flicking between Miss Okafor and the empty space her petrified stare seemed to be transfixed upon. A pair of girls in matching sorority hoodies exchanged an eloquent look before one muttered something about "ogbanjes" under her breath.

Kel, for his part, remained rooted in that cheeky, disarmingly casual grin - as if materialization before a stranger's disbelieving eyes was the most natural thing in the world. "Hi," he offered simply, relishing in the dumbfounded blinks it elicited.

Miss Okafor's full lips parted and then pressed together again, worrying that plump flesh between her teeth as she visibly regathered her wits. "Yes?" She managed with a bemused lilt, gaze still frantically scanning Kel up and down. "How can I...help you?"

Words seemed to fail her once more as Kel remained maddeningly inscrutable, content merely to observe her features in this unprecedented proximity. Large, soulful brown eyes, pert nose with its elegantly flared Asian nostrils, her complexion blended deep mahogany and sun-kissed amber, celebrating her intertwined ancestries - he drank in every nuance and contour with a palpable wistfulness.

If not for Funi's cherished visage still burning bright within his consciousness, this Miss Okafor would have certainly kindled dreams of what could have been in another reality, another life. As it were, drinking in her refined beauty harmlessly from this ghostly state would have to suffice for giving rise to such starry-eyed reveries.

"I want to borrow your notes," Kel blurted out, immediately regretting his impulsive request as soon as the words hit the air.

Recognition flickered across Miss Okafor's delicately sculpted features. "Wait, aren't you the blockhead making a fool of himself in Professor Adeyemi's class earlier?"

Kel scoffed, crossing his arms defiantly. "A fool of myself? Please. That oaf does a stellar enough job of being a self-parody without any promotion from me."

Miss Okafor's mouth set in a firm line, frustration etched on her face. "Look, I'm sorry but I don't just hand out my notes to any unserious student who asks." She bristled, clutching her books protectively to her chest. "I work extremely hard to keep them thorough and up-to-date."

"Unserious?" Kel feigned an exaggerated gasp of indignation. "Why, I'll have you know I'm the very soul of academic diligence! Adeyemi's monotonous speech occasionally sparks a sarcastic response, that's all."

He flashed her a roguish wink, relishing the deepening furrows of irritation etching themselves upon her brow. Miss Okafor's eyes narrowed to distrustful slits as she regarded him coolly.

"I seriously doubt that, Mr...?"

"Kel," he supplied helpfully with a jaunty grin.

"Mr. Kel." She made a show of enunciating the silly name slowly, as if sounding it out pained her.

"No-no. Just Kel."

"Well, Mr. Kel, I have far too much to be getting on with to waste my time debating the finer points of academic commitment with a..." She trailed off, clearly fishing for a suitably contemptuous descriptor.

"Loafer?" Kel offered unhelpfully. "Idler? Layabout?"

"I was going to say slug-a-bed," Miss Okafor fired back acidly, "but those work just as well."

With a curt harrumph and a toss of her elaborately coiffed curls, she turned on her heel to stalk off down the corridor. But Kel, undeterred and admittedly enamored with the spirited push-and-pull, fell into stride beside her.

"Aw, come on now! Don't be like that," he cajoled with a fiendish grin. "Where does a hardworking overhypertachyacheiver like yourself need to be rushing off to so urgently anyway? I'll accompany you."

Miss Okafor whirled on Kel, mouth opening to sternly rebuff his offer of companionship with a curt "Can you not follow m--"

But her words died on her lips as motion flickered in her peripheral vision. A student on an electric scooter was barreling down the hallway, oblivious to anything other than his destination. Panic flashed across Miss Okafor's eyes as she instinctively reached to yank Kel out of the scooter's path.

Her hands, however, passed through his insubstantial form like wisps of smoke. In that suspended moment of realization, the scooter collided squarely with Miss Okafor's side, sending her books and belongings clattering across the linoleum in a violent burst.

A chorus of grimaces, giggles, and murmured exclamations rippled through the gathered onlookers. The scooter jockey disentangled himself first, scrambling to his feet with wide, horrified eyes.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" he sputtered, extending a hand down to the dazed Miss Okafor.

Kel, for his part, mirrored the concern. "Are you alright?"

Miss Okafor's gaze ping-ponged between the two voices, brow furrowing in deepening bewilderment. As her eyes locked on Kel's face, realization seemed to crystallize behind them into a cold, hard certainty.

"Are you..." She breathed the words out in a reverential hush. "Are you a fucking ghost?"

Those full lips contorted around the expletive in a manner that, under vastly different circumstances, Kel might have found bizarrely alluring. As it stood, he could only gape, stunned into uncharacteristic silence by her point-blank acknowledgment of his ghostly state of being.

The surrounding bubble of onlookers parted like the Red Sea, the sight of Miss Okafor appearing to converse with utterly empty air proving too deeply unsettling for casual observation. The scooter boy, realizing his hand remained hanging in open air, withdrew it slowly while backing away with uncertain steps.

An unsettling hush descended, leaving just Kel and Miss Okafor regarding each other in a protracted, weighted pause. The question hung in the air, throbbing with implication, demanding an answer.

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