I was the wall at the end of that alley; the tallest wall in the neighbourhood. Without a trace of remorse, I had sheared the sky down to a faint, narrow sliver... Everything that reached me was buried right there: the echoes of fights, the sound of water, the murmur of a name spoken only in a whisper, and the voice of a little boy who believed his secrets would remain safe in the dark. I heard it all. That day, I even saw them walk down the alley. Now, for twenty-two years, he has returned every night; he leans his forehead against my cold body and pleads under his breath for the ending to change. And I, as always, stay silent. Walls do not bear witness; they only crack...