A Fitting Gap

A low brick retaining wall flanked the courtyard path. Near the base, a missing paver had left a clean rectangular void in the running bond. I slid across the gravel margin to measure the opening. The height was exact; the width accommodated my flat panel. I pivoted forward and eased into the recess. The weathered clay clamped my sides with firm, cool friction. My front surface sat flush with the mortar line. Heavy footsteps crunched along the nearby gravel, sending a deep, muted thud straight through the masonry into my spine. I remained plumb and motionless. I was part of the wall.