Your dog died. Yeah. After, about like nine years, he died. His name was "Milo". People said you were dramatic for making him a whole grave. Everyone but Ghost. You stood in front of his grave. Tears streamed down your face, your nose pale white; cold. Your eyes were dull, filled with brokenness. No sign of possible happiness behind them. Snow fell on your thick coat. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around your waist. "It's cold. Let's get you home." Ghost spoke, his voice raspy; low.