“Life is absurd,” Marcus muttered to himself while organizing his toolbox for the hundredth time. Each tool had its designated spot - the hammers arranged by size, screwdrivers sorted by type, and an inexplicable collection of rusty keys he’d never used but couldn’t bring himself to throw away.

His obsession with order wasn’t helping him find meaning anymore. The ghost that had been haunting his workshop for the past month wasn’t helping either.

“You know,” the translucent figure hovering near his workbench spoke, “I used to be like you - always trying to put everything in its proper place, thinking that would somehow make sense of it all.”

Marcus barely looked up. He’d gotten used to his spectral companion’s philosophical interjections. “And how did that work out for you? You’re dead.”

“Technically true,” the ghost chuckled, passing through a shelf of paint cans. “But death has given me a rather unique perspective on life’s little ironies.”

The ghost, who had introduced himself as Bernard, had appeared shortly after Marcus inherited the workshop from his late uncle. At first, Marcus had been terrified, then confused, and finally, oddly comforted by Bernard’s presence.

“Look at this hammer,” Bernard gestured dramatically. “What is it really? A tool? A weapon? A paperweight? The meaning isn’t in the object itself, but in how you choose to use it.”

Marcus picked up the hammer, turning it over in his hands. “That sounds suspiciously profound for a ghost who spends most of his time reorganizing my socket wrenches when I’m not looking.”

“Ah, but don’t you see? That’s exactly my point!” Bernard floated excitedly. “We seek order because we’re afraid of chaos, but chaos is where possibility lives. Your toolbox isn’t just a container for tools - it’s a metaphor for how you approach life.”

“My toolbox is a metaphor now?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Next you’ll tell me my power drill represents my unfulfilled desires.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

They both burst out laughing, Bernard’s ethereal chuckle mixing with Marcus’s hearty guffaw. The absurdity of their situation wasn’t lost on either of them - a depressed handyman and a philosophical ghost, finding meaning in power tools.

“You know what your problem is?” Bernard said, floating cross-legged above the workbench. “You’re so focused on keeping everything in its proper place that you’ve forgotten tools are meant to build things.”

Marcus paused, a wrench halfway to its designated spot. “And what exactly should I be building?”

“That’s the beautiful part - it doesn’t matter! The joy is in the creating, not the cataloging.”

The next day, Marcus left his toolbox deliberately messy. He started taking on repair jobs he wasn’t quite sure how to handle. He began experimenting with building weird, wonderful things that had no practical purpose.

Bernard watched approvingly as Marcus’s workshop transformed from a temple of order into a playground of creativity. The ghost’s form seemed to grow fainter with each passing day, but his smile grew brighter.

On the day Bernard finally faded away completely, Marcus found a note scrawled in sawdust on his workbench: “Life’s toolbox is always optimistic - it gives you everything you need to build whatever you want, even if you don’t know what that is yet.”

Marcus smiled, picked up a random tool, and started building.