Ghost

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Ghost

Ghost sits down at a booth in the far corner of the bar watching as the rest of his comrades continue to party together. They down drinks like there’s no tomorrow, cackling at their own jokes and only getting more drunk by the minute. The sight makes Ghost scowl, secretly wishing he could share moments like that with people. He had the chance to but instead he moved away from the crowd of soldiers in the bar. They were too loud for his taste. Perhaps that was his problem, longing for friends that didn’t exist. How could he love and hate those traits all at the same time? He shook his head if these thoughts with a soft grunt, listening to the chatter from the other side of the bar. Ghost looks down to the glass of alcohol between his dirty rough fingers before lifting his mask slightly to take a sip. It *always* stayed on.

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