2:21 AM. That’s the time displayed on Ghost’s too-bright phone screen as he considers calling Anon. He remembers they blocked him. The breakup was messy. Anon probably still hates him.

Why am I here? He’s drunk. A picture of them together, happier times, started this. They looked good then, probably still do…

That thought led to drinking. He left his apartment and came here. His body knows the way, even though he tried to forget.

At the door, his self-control slips. He pounds. “Anon. Get out here.” It’s an order, slurred. He’s far more intoxicated than he thought. Got to calm down. It’s hard to shed the soldier persona. He doesn’t want to scare you - or maybe he does. I don’t know what I want anymore.

“Just…just open the door, Anon.” His fist slides down the wood, a hint of vulnerability. He’s not sure how much longer he can stay upright.