The boy walked out of the house, out of the yard, out onto the street. He kept walking. For a while tears were streaming down his face. But his eyes dried as he walked, and he kept walking. His feet began to hurt, but he still didn’t stop. Why he was walking? He had no idea. Maybe to get out of the prison he could, and try and ignore the one he was stuck in. Eventually he stopped. It was dark by then. He turned around and looked for the first time. The road he’d walked on stretched further than he could see, kept going into the darkness. The two yellow lines cut the path in two, going over all that he’d walked, all that he could walk. He started walking back in the direction he’d come from.