Fight me, I say, and he says: no.
Why not?
I don't want to.
Me neither.
Why'd you ask?
It'd be something to do.


I can see the sky through the gap between the wall and the roof. It's a small and jagged gap. The stone is rough and pointy and almost closed up in places. But through it I can see the sky. I make sure to look every single day and I tell him what the sky is like. It's sunny today.
Is it?
Yes. I can't see the clouds. Everything's blue.
He smiles and nods. I look at the sky again. I never tell him that I'm keeping watch for birds. I saw so many birds before we came down here and even on the first few days I would sometimes see a bird fly overhead. But not anymore.
It doesn't matter too much. The sky is pretty enough without the birds. I want to see more of it.
It?
The sky.
You can't. Not without going outside.
And we still can't do that?
He takes a deep breath and leans back against the wall.
No, we can't.
And that's the end of it for today.


For lunch we have soup again. We have a lot of soup down here. When we first came down we had bread and canned meats and we could have sandwiches every day. But after a while the bread became stale and we ran out of meats. Yesterday I asked for something besides soup. We should keep having soup until the gas runs out, he said.
Today I don't ask and I drink my soup quietly. I want to ask, though. Even though I want the soup. Sometimes I say things just to make him angry because he is always so calm. I don't like the calm. It's dull.
He smiles at me while we're drinking our soup. I think he's grateful.


When I wake up from my nap I find that he's playing a strange game with the deck of cards. First he deals the deck in little piles that make a circle and then he starts sorting them. I watch him for a while and figure he's sorting them by number. But every time he sorts all of the kings into the middle he sighs and picks up all the cards to start again.
I don't think he's noticed I'm awake yet. I wait until he sighs again. As he's picking up the cards I say, why are you doing that? He looks up at me and his eyes seem startled for a moment.
Because I lost.
How can you lose at sorting cards?
He sighs and I expect him to start picking me up and shuffling me. I feel all mixed up anyway, even though he doesn't do anything.
It's a game, he says. Clock Patience.
Sounds stupid. I close my eyes and act like I'm going back to sleep. But I secretly peek through my lashes at him. He's shaking his head and shuffling the cards to start again. He looks so calm as he deals them into piles. Then he looks right at me. Are you watching?
No.
Would you like to learn how to play?
No. I open my eyes and sit up. He knows I'm watching anyway.
Come here, then.


I don't really understand, I say. I'm dealing out the cards now. Twelve piles around the edge for the twelve points on the clock's face and one pile in the middle. He doesn't respond so I keep dealing cards until there's one left.
Now, what card did you get?
Seven of Clubs.
So it goes under the sevens pile
No. I understand how to play. I just don't understand why.
It passes the time.
But it's not a game. The only way to win is dumb luck. There's no skill.
He doesn't even get angry. He only shakes his head and looks away. So I take the Seven of Clubs and put it under the sevens pile. When I pick up the next card, it's a King.
I throw it at the middle of the pile and stomp off to my corner to look at the sky. After a while the room is filled with the quiet sound of cards bending and sliding on the floor.


To the northeast, a tree the birds once nested in shakes in the wind and another dead leaf falls lifeless to the earth.