His Office

He looked down at his office desk. It was a complete and total mess, the way he'd left it last night. The paperwork and books he'd spent most of the day and part of night researching and studying were thrown carelessly around the room. His trash bin was still full of the crumpled pieces of paper he'd scribbled and scratched things out on from his numerous different findings. The picture of him and his family sat somewhere behind the useful junk strewn across his desk. On top of a book was another picture he didn't recognize. Leaning over, he realized it was a picture of a grave.

"I'm sorry," he said to the picture in front of him.

The grave was in a great spot, the sun luminated it and it was easier to read the name. As he read the name and rank, he felt a tear come to his eye. He wiped at it, but there was nothing there. Just that feeling made him want to start sobbing. There were no tears and there never would be...ever. He was no longer able to have the same emotions as humans because...well, in a sense, he not longer was human. He was a memory of one, a ghost.

Once more, he looked at the grave, and read aloud, "Brigadier General Maes Hughes. Beloved husband, father, and friend." To honor his death, he realized, they'd promoted him two ranks.

And it began to rain.