Maybe the appropriate way to describe us would be "a lukewarm vacuum." We stay shy, we pick up what others have left behind. We sometimes suck. And we're teetering on the edge of drinkable and dumpable. Not too hot, not too cold, but we ain't just right, not yet.
We can't contain space because we are empty. But maybe emptiness takes up space. In fact, it takes up days and weeks and lifetimes. I've found a temperature in this room of mine that's just right. Not too hot, not too cold. Close the door when you leave.