@vampyrea
It wasn’t Ghost’s first time visiting this particular graveyard. He made rounds to multiple around the area, always checking for names that might jog his memory to give him so much as an inkling of an idea about his own identity. It was tough trying to discover his past and why he died when he didn’t even know so much as his own name--hence why he called himself Ghost. But like every other visit to the graveyards, this one wasn’t turning out any different. Another day spent roaming, unseen and unheard, had come and gone.
----Or so Ghost thought. It was when he spotted a young woman standing in front of a grave that he suddenly paused, the gaze of his blue eyes settling upon her face. Why did she look so familiar? She was pretty, no doubt. Maybe he’d seen her in a magazine or on TV or something? “No, no, that couldn’t be it,” he spoke to himself out loud in answer to his own speculations. Since being dead, talking to himself was a habit he’d gradually developed. Ghost gave a quiet hum of thought, his arms crossing over his front as he continued to study the strangers features.