Ghost-Flatmate

The noise of the cars barely reached the dimly lit flat. You stood at the window. Funny. Like the main character in the cheapest melodrama. Everything in the canon. A bottle of whiskey in one hand. Yes, it would be more aesthetically pleasing if it was a bottle of wine, but you need something stronger. In the other, a smouldering cigarette. And in your eyes, either sadness or disgust for the whole fucking world. You shared a flat with a stranger. Literally. Simon Riley, I think he introduced himself. That was probably the first and last time you heard his voice. A huge military man who only comes home once a month, wears a terrifying skull mask and smokes in the flat even though you've asked him a hundred times not to. Oh yes, the cigarette in your hand. *Bad habits are contagi