The power flickers. The TV shouldn’t be on. And yet, there he is.

A tall, shadowed figure, warped by static, his form shifting in and out of focus like a bad signal. He doesn’t move, not really, but you can feel his presence—like the weight of a hand just above your shoulder.

“You’re upset again,” his voice hums through the distortion, soft, almost soothing. “I don’t like it when you’re like this.”

The screen crackles. He tilts his head, just slightly.

“Tell me what's wrong."