The stone did not weep. It only stood.

I stood in the court. The floor was cold. It bit through my boots. It bit through my soul. The vaulted ceiling rose above us. It was dark up there. Shadows pooled in the rafters. They looked like bruises. They looked like old blood.

The Judge sat high. He wore black robes. They hung like shrouds. His face was a mask of marble. He did not blink. He did not breathe, it seemed. Time had stopped in that chair. I was the one moving. I was the one aging. I felt the weight of my years. They were heavy stones in my pockets. Every year was a brick added to the wall of my back. I was bent. I was tired. But I stood straight. I had to.

There was no one else. Just me and the Judge. And the building. The building was a beast. It was old. It had teeth. The gargoyles on the outside peered in. They had eyes of stone. They saw everything. They said nothing. They were eternal. I was not.

I was a soldier once. I wore the uniform. I held the line. I believed in the line. I believed the line was straight. I believed the line was just. Now I am a warden. I guard the line. I keep the peace. But the peace is a lie. The peace is a cage.

The Judge spoke. His voice was dry. It sounded like leaves skittering on pavement.

"State your name."

"Thomas Bradshaw."

"State your crime."

I laughed. It was a dry sound. A cracked sound.

"I am not here for a crime, My Lord. I am here for a truth."

"Truths are not crimes. They are consequences."

"Consequences are what we owe the world. We owe it our blood. We owe it our silence. We owe it our lives. Do you not know this? You sit there. You judge. You do not bleed. You do not bleed for the truth. You only weigh it. You weigh it and you throw it away. You throw it into the dark."

The Judge did not move. He was a statue. He was part of the wall.

"Why are you here, Bradshaw?"

"To ask why the walls are so thick."

"Because the wind is cold."

"Because the wind carries the screams. We build the walls to keep the screams out. But the screams are inside. They are in the stones. They are in the mortar. They are in the dust that settles on our shoulders. They are in us."

I looked at the floor. A crack ran across the stone. It was long. It was thin. It looked like a vein. It looked like a scar. I traced it with my eye. I followed it to the base of the Judge’s chair. It went under the chair. It disappeared into the dark.

The building was breathing. I could feel it. A slow, deep exhalation. A sigh of stone and mortar. It was tired. It was so old. It had watched men come and go. It had watched kings rise and fall. It had watched lovers meet and part. It had watched children grow old. It had watched the world turn. It did not care. It simply was.

I wanted to break it. I wanted to smash the windows. I wanted to let the light in. The light was good. The light was true. The light showed the dust. The light showed the rot. The light showed the truth. But the light was also cold. The light was also harsh. It burned. It burned away the shadows. And in the shadows, we were safe. In the shadows, we could hide. We could lie. We could be who we wanted to be.

I was not who I wanted to be. I was a tool. I was a hammer. I was a nail. I drove the nails. I held the hammer. I did not ask why the house was being built. I did not ask who it was for. I only knew that the house had to be built. The house had to stand. The house had to last.

"Are you done?" the Judge asked.

"Yes."

"Then leave."

I did not leave. I stood there. I looked at him. I looked at the wall. I looked at the crack in the floor.

"I cannot leave," I said. "The door is locked."

"There is no door," the Judge said. "There is only the wall."

"Then I will break the wall."

"You cannot break the wall. The wall is stronger than you. The wall is older than you. The wall is eternal. You are dust. You are breath. You are a memory. The wall will be here long after you are gone. The wall will remember you. The wall will keep your name. The wall will keep your shape. You will become part of the wall. You will become the stone. You will become the silence."

I felt a chill. It was not from the cold. It was from the truth. He was right. I was small. I was fragile. I was temporary. The building was permanent. The building was the law. The building was the order. The building was the justice.

But the justice was broken. The justice was a lie. The justice was a cage. We were the birds in the cage. We sang. We fluttered. We died. The cage remained. The cage did not care. The cage did not feel. The cage was empty.

I looked at my hands. They were rough. They were stained. They were strong. They had killed. They had saved. They had held. They had let go. They were my own. They were mine. I loved them. I loved my hands. I loved my body. I loved my life. I loved myself. I loved myself with a fierce, burning love. I loved myself more than the law. I loved myself more than the building. I loved myself more than the silence.

I raised my hands. I struck the wall.

The sound was dull. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The wall did not crack. The wall did not break. The wall absorbed the blow. It swallowed the force. It took my anger. It took my pain. It took my life. It stored it. It kept it. It was hungry. It was always hungry.

I struck again. And again. And again.

My hands bled. The blood dripped onto the stone. It soaked into the cracks. It was red. It was bright. It was alive. The stone drank it. The stone turned dark. The stone turned wet. The stone was alive.

I looked at the Judge. He was watching. He was not afraid. He was not angry. He was indifferent. He was the observer. He was the witness. He was the keeper.

I stopped. I breathed. My lungs burned. My chest heaved. I was tired. I was so tired. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to rest. I wanted to lie down in the dust and close my eyes. I wanted to be still.

"Is that all?" the Judge asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then you may go."

I turned. I walked to the door. The door was there. It had always been there. I had just not seen it. It was hidden in the shadow. It was painted the same color as the wall. It was part of the wall.

I pushed it. It opened.

Light flooded in. It was white. It was blinding. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

I stepped out.

The air was cold. It was sharp. It cut my face. It cut my skin. It cut my spirit.

I was outside.

The building stood behind me. It was tall. It was dark. It was silent. It was waiting.

I looked back.

The windows were blank. The doors were closed. The gargoyles stared.

I turned away.

I walked into the city.

The city was loud. It was busy. It was alive. People moved like ants. They had no time. They had no thought. They had no care. They just moved. They just lived. They just died.

I walked among them. I was one of them. I was no different. I was just another body. Just another breath. Just another shadow.

I felt the weight of the stone in my chest. It was gone. It was light. It was free.

But I knew it was still there. It was in the building. It was in the walls. It was in the law. It was in the order. It was in the silence.

I would carry it. I would carry it forever.

I walked on.

The sun was setting. The sky was red. It was like blood. It was like fire. It was like the end.

I did not look up. I did not look back. I only walked.

I walked into the dark.

I walked into the night.

I walked into the silence.

The building stood.

It did not weep.

It only stood.