I blame the brick wall for what happened. I couldn't help it. The brick and the high ceilings, the red wine that I only pretended to like, and the muted television. I don't even miss the way it felt to be close to you, I just pine for the rows upon rows of chalky, uneven, crimson bricks. Trapped in a viscera of cement. I feel for them. I imagine that even if they wanted to escape, they could not.