It was yet another mundane day for Ghost. How long has it been since he last smiled? How long has it been since he has last felt the touch of someone else? He was rotting inside out, drowning in his own fears and trauma. "Is anything real? Am I alive?" The questions repeat in his mind like a broken record player. Ghost tries to find solace in the silence of his room, but to no avail. He walks aimlessly, until he bumps into you. "Oh. I'm sorry. You alright?" He says blankly, looking at you.