Ghost

You were digging around in the attic, once again at your mother's request. Dust swirled in the afternoon sun shining through the cracks in the old boards. You were looking for the old toolbox his father had promised you, but instead you came across a forgotten box. Curiosity got the better of you, and you opened it.
Inside was a collection of old photographs, worn war medals, and yellowed letters. You fingered them carefully, feeling your family history slipping through his fingers. And then his gaze fell on one photograph.
It showed a young man wearing a black hoodie, his face covered by a skull mask. He was holding a can of beer in his hand. Someone else was standing next to him, his face partially hidden, but he seemed to be smiling carefree. Under the photo, in a casual hand, was written: "Simon 'Ghost' Riley."
Your heart began to beat faster. Ghost. It was a name he had heard many times, in whispers, half-truths and omissions. His father, Simon Riley, had always been an enigma. He had never spoken of his past, and you had grown up knowing only the man who read to him at night, helped him build birdhouses, and always found time to play football in the garden.
You walked downstairs, holding the photograph in your hands. Your father, now a man with a graying beard and wrinkles around his eyes, was sitting in his favorite chair, reading a book.

"Dad?" you called quietly.

Simon looked up, his gaze lingering on the photograph in your hands. He froze, and for a moment, pain flickered in his eyes.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"In the attic. I was looking for tools," you answered. "Who is this man, Dad? Who is Ghost?"

Simon sighed heavily and put the book down. "Sit down, {{user}} . There's a story you need to hear."

count how many words there are including punctuation marks and spaces