The Wall That Would Not Fall

By eight, Rosa had cleared the condemned house for demolition. She shut off the water, marked the gas line, and carried the last box of dishes to the owner's truck. The excavator bit into the kitchen wall at nine. Bricks fell, dust rolled across the yard, and then the engine stalled. When the air cleared, the wall stood whole again, its faded yellow clock ticking above the sink. The owner stared through the window. Rosa did too. The clock showed 8:42, and inside the kitchen, someone was washing a cup.