The Wall

Cameron Wilkes stared at the wall. It stared right back. There was only ever going to be one winner. Raising his eyes, Cam tried to see the top of the offending thing. Impossible. A wry smile crossed his face when he remembered the words of a song from a long-ago school assembly – so high you can’t get over it, so low, you can’t get under it. Different subject matter but the problem remained the same.

He laid a calloused hand on the rough surface of the brick and pushed. Solid. It didn’t push back. It didn’t need to. Cam stamped on the hard-packed ground, sending up a miniscule flurry of dry dirt which settled back down as if it had never moved. He sighed.

Turning to his left, he took a tentative step forward, then another and another. His right hand never left the surface of the wall. Before he realised it, he was running. He kept running despite the discomfort in his right hand. He ran until his sides ached and his breathing grew deep. He skidded to a halt. Another temporary flurry of dry dirt. Blood pebbled on the fingertips of his right hand. Another sigh. The wall still went on.

Hands-on-hips, Cameron took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let out the breath slow and steady. He opened his eyes.

He was back, at the computer. The blinking cursor before him as immovable as the wall. He pushed his chair away from the desk, spun around, stood, and exited the room.

As he turned out the light, he murmured, “Maybe tomorrow.”