He had to know where Old Ghost had thrown the letters. There was no way Boone could simply ask him about it.

Old Ghost had already started to be skeptical about his intentions.

"Did anyone tell you how dirty your jacket looks?" Boone spoke from his table.

"Are you talking to me?" man on counter asked with a scoop of gravy in his hand.

"He's talking to me." Old Ghost puffed smoke out.

"Trashtalking to you is fair though." Man laughed from counter.

"Well, Boone. Tell me what you find dirty about my jacket." Old Ghost sat on chair infront of him.

He pointed at a brown stain, "This stain."

"I was sipping this soup before I choked to death by it." He laughed, "This is a whole new level bad cookery, isn’t it?"

You nasty fag. Stop lying.

"I thought you got it from where you dump your trash. Instead you are blaming your wife."

"I keep dumpster clean. And my wife was horrible cook."

"Who keeps trash clean?" Boone scoffed a fake laughter. But Old Ghost didn’t catch it.

"Anyone who has to sleep with the dumpster would like to have it clean." Old Ghost got provoked.

That's it! It is in your room.

"Get the horrible smile off your face." Old Ghost grinded his teeth, "And watch your tone when you talk to me."

Old Ghost threw the cigarette at his face and left the café. And as the ghost walked out of there, Boone followed him. Going behind him was a tough task because Old Ghost walked very slow. It was very hard to not get noticed by him.

Old Ghost gasped while he was on his way for something when he paused. He thought he had heard someone following him.

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Boone realized his awareness and hid behind the turn of passage. From there, instead of going behind him, Boone watched where he went.

Old Ghost turned the key on the door and removed his jacket. He did not mind the stain. When the door opened then he stepped inside his room.

Boone had no idea he kept his door locked. He had to walk inside his room if he wanted to get the letters back. He made his mind and didn’t think twice for his decision.

Boone ran inside the room.

"Don’t move, kid." Old Ghost was sitting on his bed with a gun in his clutches, "Did you think I was a piece of cake?"

Boone raised his hands and kept it in the air. He scanned the room but there was no sign of the dumpster.

"Why do you find annoying and following me so amusing?" Old Ghost asked.

"It's a fetish."

"I smell some motive. Not fetish."

"What is the first thought a rookie here gets?" Boone questioned.

"Revival process, isn’t it?"

"Yeah." Boone nod, "The system."

"System works like this. I mind my business and you mind your own. I had told you about it earlier. Pastry didn’t help you remember it. Perhaps this gun will."

"I'll watch my steps from here on." Boone whispered.

"You better be." Old Ghost lowered his gun, "Let's start it from here, okay?"

"Sure."

"Why did you come here?"

Boone thought for a while, "I came here to apologize to you. Your jacket wasn’t so dirty after all. I shouldn’t have humiliated you there."

"Not the right answer but it’s a wise one. Now get out from here."

Boone didn’t let a single second go in vain after it. He rushed out.