Wall

A flash fiction about staring at a wall. Thanks to @owlsthoughts for the prompt! If you don't like the story, make sure to tell him all about it. Any comment thread will do :)

I almost instantly regret this choice. I'm staring at a wall for...reasons. It's complicated. I'm both aware and confused as to why. I guess circumstances have brought me to this moment. I mean, circumstances bring everyone to every moment, really. Never mind.  Is something supposed to happen now? I wonder. I'm just carefully staring ahead, and there's not much to notice. It's a less-than-remarkable wall. Plain concrete. Unsealed. Just a smooth gray vertical plane. Slightly moist. I can tell it's been drawing damp. There's a cool humidity coming off the surface that I can feel on my cheek. 

I'm not sure what I'm focusing on as I peer into it. I'm seeing minor imperfections, variances, and the like. I'm also noticing an overlaying blur of sorts. I should be wearing my glasses. So I can see the wall better?

Is that really why I'm here?  Just... stuck, staring into a wall forever? No. That would be silly. 

So why am I still here? The wall will be here tomorrow if I don't finish whatever it is that I'm doing. Staring at a wall. A wall of wall. You can call it a wall of brick or a wall of concrete. Even so-called walls of humanity exist, but never just a wall of wall. "What's it a wall of? A wall. Thanks for asking." Now I'm talking to myself while I stare at a wall. Or am I talking to the wall? I feel like the former makes more sense. Is this a first? The first time that it makes more sense to talk to yourself.  "No, they're fine. They always talk to themselves." "Oh good, for a moment I thought they were talking to a wall." 

I kind of want to lean my face against it. Maybe take a nap. Although I'm not sure I could fall asleep leaning on a wall. I'm sure it's been done by someone at some point. I'm almost certain. Yes, a soldier. I could absolutely see a soldier standing with their face against a wall, fast asleep. They'd have been awake for 3 days straight on mission and finally got a chance to rest. Only to immediately fall asleep standing up, face mashed against a wall. Sounds cozy.

My breath reflects off the surface. The warm damp mixes with the cool damp to create mid-humidity. Unremarkable in either direction. A reflection of my being, warped into mediocrity and mild comfort. Is that all I am now? Mildly comfortable, like the average amount of humidity reflecting off a damp wall. I suppose it wouldn't be so cozy without my breath. Maybe the wall is meant to reflect me as I should be, instead of how I am. 

I think I've noticed a crack. It's very small, but it's there. I'm fairly certain. I consider reaching out with my fingernail to test the theory.  I don't think it'll be necessary. If I squint hard enough, I can refocus my tired eyes and see it. Definitely a crack. It's not big enough to be of any concern, of course. I doubt there's even an insect small enough to crawl inside it. Is a tardigrade an insect? Still, its presence makes me slightly concerned about the structural integrity of the wall. Although I'm not entirely sure why. Would I be upset if the wall crumbled in front of me, right now?

I can picture the tiny crack expanding and pulsing as more fissures spider-web their way across the surface. An uncanny tearing sound erupts as the wall heaves toward my body, transforming from a solid into something more akin to water, flowing downward.  I keep retreating just far enough to avoid the cascading shower of rock and fine debris. Closing my eyes, I exhale sharply to keep the dust out of my nose. Then I'm out of breath. I inhale carefully and slowly open my eyes to see a pile of rubble where the wall once stood and open nothingness beyond. 

No.

Then I wouldn't have anything to stare at. I'm happy with it the way it is, for what it is. I suppose. It's close. Solid. Comforting in the way only a fully intact wall can be. It's sure of its purpose. To be a wall. To just...exist. It's a simple mission, though. No complications, no schedule to keep, no one to disappoint and no one to please. Well, no one that doesn't already have an opinion of walls, I guess. It didn't even have to interview for the position, and it won't have to worry about retirement.

Someday it'll just stop being a wall. I won't be here for that. This wall's natural life is practically endless compared to mine. Provided it continues on without wear or weather to erode it, immortality is certainly possible. The immortal wall.  Standing sure, until the last light leaves a dying universe. Maybe not that long. I think our nearest star is meant to supernova in a couple billion years.

The semi-immortal wall: witness to the end of the world. That'll have to do. 

A cold hand clamps around my shoulder and spins me away from the wall. I'm the last one in the room, and this thing has come to collect me. Again. Every day they bring us in here. To stand with each other, to stand alone, or with the wall. I know some people stand with each other. I can hear their quiet chatter in the background. I can only assume some people are standing alone. Although it seems like awfully strange behavior when there's a perfectly good wall to keep you company. One of these days, I'll have to peek away from the wall and see if there's someone else here like me.