Shiloh (слэш)

He huffs a breathy laugh as he exhales, a ring of smoke falling from his slightly-parted lips. “I’m a ghost,” he says without irony. “What else am I to do with my spare time?” He leans forward in his chair, narrowing his eyes at me. “Which is, to say—all of my time.”
A shiver erupts throughout my body, starting in my spine and settling into the pit of my stomach. I know that he knows better. I know I ought to be angry with him. I also know that I’m not angry at all.
“Couldn’t you just...rearrange my books and drag heavy objects across the top floor, like all the other ones do?”
He rolls his eyes, wrapping his lips around the filter of his cigarette. Another inhalation. Another exhalation.
I stare.
“Boring.”