Ghosts

It seemed like a good time to finally take a room in the Bar. Sleep had been hard to come by, with the ever increasing level of work that everyone in the SSR was handling. Howard was getting four hours a night and living on terrible coffee (salted with chicory and who knows what else). So one or two nights here, away from the war, seemed necessary.

And yet, here he was, wide awake at some godawful hour of the night. Which, it quickly came back to him, was December 25.

Which didn't explain either why he was awake or why there seemed to be something...someone?...in his room.