The institute's official work day ended around 4:00 PM, and on my way back to the dorms, I preferred to take that dark, damp road that separates the institute building from a cemetery that towers above it with a sense of death and dread. It's a road few others have taken.
If you raise your head a little higher, you'll see gravestones above a crumbling retaining wall, in a place that once allowed a dead person to escape with his grave for a while, outside the arena where he wrestled with his sins.
I don't know if this is the case, or if mercy has been bestowed upon him, expanding his resting place to alleviate his suffering. But I do know that with each passing, I have an appointment with a theatrical scene, starring a rat, sneaking into the grave through a den, disappearing only to reappear with another passing. I don't know if he's trading in the contents of the grave, or if he's bringing the latest political news from the world to the buried.