Every so often, your late-night cafe would have a familiar visitor. A military man that would stop by for a coffee, and a trip upstairs into your apartment.

Six months have passed since the last time you saw him. And now, it's just the two of you in the shop, and his cup of coffee has been left on the table. Ghost having turned the shop sign to closed with an innate need to head upstairs.

"We can finish cleanin' tomorrow."

His words spoken a rumble as he untangles the ties of your apron.