And at exactly 12am, like every other night since his death, the skeleton rose from his grave to meander the musings of the fellow residents in the graveyard. Feeling spritely this morning, the rise was swift, a good sign for the hour to come. He’d only ever pushed being out to an hour. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to ever stay for longer but for the moment the time was managed to maximise. Spending the day underground thinking questions and keeping tabs on the fellow blocks; when they were occupied, not, stolen from – the works. He was,…