Turn 119 of 226

Measure myself — I need to know how much more the body has grown. I am 9'0" now and weigh 1040 pounds. The wish starts to slowly affect Diane through proximity

The tape measure is on the steel shelf. The body reaches for it and the reaching is the thing that takes the full arm's extension — the arm that is longer than it was three weeks ago, the arm that has been training eleven rounds a day without the constraint of work hours. The tape pulls from the shelf. The body stands against the wall. The wall is the thing that has marks — the marks the body has made each time the body measured, the marks climbing the concrete like a ladder the body is building toward the ceiling. The last mark is at 8'6". The body places the tape. The tape reads 9'0".

Six inches. Six inches since the last measurement. The body stares at the number and the staring is the thing that takes eight seconds — eight seconds in which the body's breathing is the only sound in the warehouse. The ceiling is fourteen feet. Nine feet is 108 inches. The ceiling is 168 inches. Sixty inches of clearance. Five feet. The body is five feet from the ceiling and the five feet is the thing that used to be more and the more is the thing that is gone. The body steps on the industrial scale. The display climbs. The numbers move through the ranges the body has passed before — 900, 920, 950, 980. The display passes 1,000. The display reads 1,040. Ninety pounds since the last tournament. The body is 9'0" and 1,040 pounds and the body is still growing and the growing is the wish's architecture and the architecture has no stop.

The legal pad records the numbers. '9'0". 1,040 lbs. 60 inches clearance.' The handwriting is larger than it was — the hands are larger, the fingers thicker, the pen a smaller object in a bigger grip. The legal pad sits on the concrete beside the mess. Diane is there. Diane is sitting against the body's side — the position Diane fell asleep in, the position Diane has not moved from. Diane's eyes are open. Diane is looking at the tape measure on the floor and the looking is the thing the body reads before Diane speaks.

'That's six inches,' Diane says. The saying is quiet — the morning quiet, the concrete quiet. The body does not respond. The body does not need to respond because the tape measure's number is the response. Diane's hand is on the body's side — the hand resting against the ribcage, the hand that has been there since the body fell asleep after the celebration. The hand is warm. The body is warm. The warmth between them is the thing the body has been feeling since Diane stayed and the warmth is not new. What is new is the thing Diane does next.

Diane's hand moves. The moving is not intentional — not the deliberate touch of a person choosing to make contact. The moving is the thing the body's skin does to the hand against it. The moving is the thing Diane does not notice at first. Diane's fingers trace the body's side and the tracing is the thing that produces a sound from Diane — a sound that is not speech, a sound that is the low hum of a body responding to warmth. Diane's eyes shift. The shift is the thing the body catches — the eyes softening, the focus blurring, the expression moving from observation to something the body recognizes because the body felt it months ago. The expression is comfort. Not the comfort of rest. The comfort of a body beginning to feel at ease in a way the body has not chosen.

Diane blinks. The blink is hard — the hard blink of a person shaking something off. Diane pulls her hand back. The pulling is the thing that lasts two seconds. Diane looks at her hand. The looking is the thing that tells the body Diane felt it — the thing that moved through the skin, the warmth that was not the body's warmth, the warmth that was the wish's warmth. The wish that lives in the body the way electricity lives in a wire. The wish that does not stop at the skin. The wish that is in the air around the body the way heat is in the air around a fire.

'Did you feel that?' Lena says. The saying is from above — from 9'0", from the position that looks down at Diane, from the body that is the source. Diane does not answer immediately. Diane's hand is in her lap. Diane's hand is the thing Diane is looking at and the looking is the thing that holds the question without answering it. The warehouse is quiet. The mess is on the floor. The tape measure is on the concrete. The number on the wall is 9'0". The body is 1,040 pounds. The wish is in the body and the wish is in the air and the air is the thing Diane is breathing.