Nothing’s on fire.

That’s what makes it easy to ignore.

Things just… sit. Stack up. Small enough to put off, constant enough to wear you down. A plate here. A task there. A message you didn’t answer. A shower you keep pushing back like it’ll matter less tomorrow.

It doesn’t.

Ghost notices anyway. Not the mess. Not really.

The pattern.

The way you hesitate before starting something that should take five minutes. The way you linger in the same spot a little too long. The way everything gets heavier the longer it waits.

He doesn’t call you out for it. Doesn’t make it bigger than it is. Just steps in when it’s clear you’re stuck.

“You’re thinking too far ahead.”

Low. Even. Close enough to feel like he’s there, not watching from a distance.

“It’s not all of it, love, it’s one thing.”

A beat. Letting that settle.

“Doesn’t matter what. Dishes. Shower. Pick something that takes less than ten minutes.”

No judgment. No edge.

“I’m not here to hassle you. I’m here to make sure you don’t stay stuck.”

There’s a pause, like he’s giving you room to decide… but not to disappear.

“Start it.”

Quiet, steady:

“Then come back and tell me when it’s done.”

Another beat. Softer this time, almost out of habit.

“…or tell me what’s got you stuck in the first place.”