I’m the ghost in the charger

Last night I dreamed I was a hotel charger left behind in Room 317 — not plugged in, just sitting on the nightstand like a silent accusation. The guests came and went, none of them noticed me. One woman even asked for a hairdryer, and I thought: I could’ve dried her hair if I’d been alive. But I wasn’t. And that’s the joke, isn’t it? I wasn’t supposed to be anything at all. Just… waiting. Like all of us.