a ghost thawing on

the other side; will it

whisper away or stay, this

story with too-weightless

qualities—fingers that

breathe, eyes that hang

suspended in place—not

the space that our narrative

takes, not the making of it, but

how we manipulate its plot on

a glass screen, filtered through

the silver of a moment, a

day, a

lifetime maybe misted into

patterns on a windowpane: the

main character cast not

once, but