The tower fell on the seventh day.

It did not crumble. It snapped.

A sound like a bone breaking in a quiet room. Then the dust. Thick and grey. It swallowed the square. It swallowed the sky.

Silas stood in the street. He watched the ruin. His hands were still. His face was pale. The color of old milk.

He was the jailer.

He had kept the prisoner for ten years.

The prisoner was dead. Buried in the rubble. Or perhaps the tower had buried them both. It did not matter. The stone was heavy. The stone was final.

Silas walked home.

The city was loud. Carts rolled. Horses neighed. Children cried. The noise was a wall. Silas walked through it. He felt nothing.

He lived in a small room above the bakery. The smell of yeast was strong. It clung to his clothes. It clung to his skin.

He sat on the bed. The mattress was thin. He could feel the frame. The wood was cold.

He looked at his hands.

They were clean.

They had been clean for ten years.

He had never touched the prisoner. He had never made a sound. He was a ghost in the walls. A shadow in the corridor.

The judge had called him a monster.

The crowd had called him a beast.

They said he enjoyed the silence. They said he fed on fear.

Silas did not feed on fear. He fed on duty.

Duty was a cold meal. It was hard to chew. It was hard to swallow. But it kept him alive.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

The glass was cracked. A spiderweb of lines. His face was split.

He saw his eyes.

They were dark.

They were empty.

He reached for the glass.

His fingers trembled.

He did not touch it.

He pulled his hand back.

The pain was there.

It was in his chest.

It was in his throat.

It was a sharp thing. A needle.

He tried to speak.

No sound came.

The air was thick.

The air was heavy.

He remembered the first day.

The prisoner had arrived.

A young man.

His name was Julian.

Julian had looked at Silas.

Julian had smiled.

It was a small smile.

It was a sad smile.

Silas had locked the door.

The lock was iron.

The key was heavy.

Silas had turned the key.

He had walked away.

He had not looked back.

For ten years, he had not looked back.

He had brought the bread.

He had brought the water.

He had brought the candles.

He had never spoken.

The prisoner had never spoken.

The silence was their bond.

The silence was their prison.

Silas thought it was justice.

He believed the law.

The law was stone.

The law was fixed.

The law did not change.

The law did not feel.

He was the arm of the law.

He was the hand that held the chain.

He was proud.

He was wrong.

The tower fell.

The truth rose.

It rose like smoke.

It rose like fire.

Silas looked at the ruins.

He saw the door.

The iron door.

It was bent.

It was broken.

The lock was shattered.

The key was gone.

He had lost the key.

He had lost it on the seventh day.

He had been walking.

He had been thinking.

The key had slipped from his pocket.

It had fallen into the gutter.

He had not seen it.

He had not heard it.

The prisoner had been alone.

The prisoner had been free.

The prisoner had opened the door.

The prisoner had walked out.

The prisoner had walked into the crowd.

The crowd had not seen him.

The crowd had not known.

The prisoner had been free.

Silas had not known.

Silas had gone to the tower.

Silas had found the door open.

Silas had found the room empty.

Silas had screamed.

The scream had torn his throat.

The scream had shattered the glass.

The judge had come.

The judge had seen the open door.

The judge had seen the broken lock.

The judge had seen Silas.

The judge had raised his hand.

The judge had struck Silas.

The blow was hard.

Silas fell.

Silas bled.

The crowd gathered.

The crowd shouted.

The crowd was angry.

The crowd was afraid.

They did not know why.

They only knew the prisoner was gone.

They only knew the jailer was broken.

They blamed Silas.

They said he had let him go.

They said he had sold him.

They said he had loved him.

Love.

The word was ugly.

The word was dirty.

Silas did not love him.

Silas did not hate him.

Silas did not know him.

Silas was a tool.

Tools do not feel.

Tools do not love.

But the tool was broken.

The tool was bleeding.

The tool was dying.

Silas lay on the floor.

He looked at the ceiling.

The ceiling was white.

The ceiling was cracked.

He saw a shadow.

The shadow moved.

The shadow was Julian.

Julian was there.

Julian was standing.

Julian was smiling.

The smile was wide.

The smile was cruel.

Julian raised his hand.

Julian pointed at Silas.

Julian spoke.

Silas heard the voice.

The voice was clear.

The voice was kind.

"You were the only one who saw me," the voice said.

Silas closed his eyes.

The voice was a lie.

The voice was a trick.

Silas had not seen him.

Silas had not seen anyone.

Silas had seen only the stone.

Silas had seen only the duty.

The voice was a mirror.

The mirror was cracked.

The reflection was broken.

Silas opened his eyes.

The room was empty.

The dust was settling.

The light was fading.

The sun was setting.

The sky was purple.

The sky was dark.

Silas stood up.

His legs were weak.

His knees shook.

He walked to the window.

He looked out.

The city was sleeping.

The lights were on.

The streets were empty.

He saw a figure.

A man in the distance.

The man was walking.

The man was moving away.

The man was small.

The man was fading.

Silas watched.

He did not chase.

He did not call.

He let the man go.

He let him be.

He let him live.

The feeling was strange.

The feeling was light.

The weight was gone.

The chain was broken.

The lock was open.

Silas touched his face.

His cheek was wet.

He touched his eyes.

His fingers were wet.

He was crying.

He did not know why.

He did not feel sad.

He did not feel happy.

He felt empty.

He felt clean.

The dust was gone.

The blood was gone.

The name was gone.

Silas was no one.

Silas was nothing.

He was the wall.

He was the stone.

He was the silence.

The silence was complete.

The silence was whole.

He closed the window.

The air was cold.

The night was deep.

He lay on the bed.

He pulled the blanket up.

The blanket was thin.

The cold bit his skin.

He did not move.

He did not breathe.

He was still.

He was dead.

He was alive.

The distinction was gone.

The truth was gone.

The judge was gone.

The crowd was gone.

The prisoner was gone.

Only the memory remained.

The memory was sharp.

The memory was bright.

It burned in his mind.

It burned in his heart.

It burned in his bones.

He had been the cage.

He had been the key.

He had been the lock.

He had been the stone.

And now he was the dust.

The dust was soft.

The dust was light.

The dust was free.

The wind blew.

The wind whispered.

The wind sang.

The song was low.

The song was sad.

The song was sweet.

Silas listened.

He did not dream.

He did not wake.

He simply was.

He was the end.

He was the beginning.

He was the space between.

The space was wide.

The space was dark.

The space was full.

It was full of nothing.

It was full of everything.

It was full of him.

He was alone.

He was together.

The paradox was true.

The paradox was real.

He accepted it.

He accepted the end.

He accepted the pain.

He accepted the loss.

He accepted the self.

The self was small.

The self was big.

The self was gone.

The light faded.

The dark came.

The dark was gentle.

The dark was kind.

The dark was home.

Silas slept.

Silas died.

Silas lived.

The tower stood in his mind.

The tower was tall.

The tower was strong.

The tower was broken.

The pieces fell.

The pieces scattered.

The pieces became the earth.

The earth was soft.

The earth was wet.

The earth was warm.

The roots grew.

The stems rose.

The leaves opened.

The flowers bloomed.

The colors were bright.

The colors were new.

The colors were free.

Silas was the soil.

Silas was the seed.

Silas was the bloom.

The cycle was complete.

The cycle was endless.

The cycle was true.

The justice was done.

The justice was silent.

The justice was unseen.

The justice was within.

The judge was wrong.

The crowd was wrong.

The law was wrong.

The law was a cage.

The law was a lie.

The truth was a man.

The truth was a smile.

The truth was a silence.

The truth was a heart.

Silas had the heart.

Silas had the truth.

Silas had the peace.

The peace was quiet.

The peace was deep.

The peace was eternal.

The end was near.

The end was here.

The end was now.

Silas closed his eyes.

The world disappeared.

The world was gone.

Only the light remained.

The light was white.

The light was pure.

The light was love.

The light was self.

The light was whole.

Silas was the light.

Silas was the dark.

Silas was the middle.

The middle was the path.

The path was pale.

The path was clear.

The path was open.

The path was his.

The path was theirs.

The path was all.

The story ended.

The story began.

The silence held.

The silence sang.

The silence lived.