Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage.

- Richard Lovelace

It only took one second to lose myself. Blinding pain ricocheted in my head for exactly one second and then it was gone, leaving me gasping for breath and pressing the heel of my palm to my forehead in an effort to curb it. It wasn't necessary; it went away quite happily on its own, and all it left behind was a trace of dizziness. I stumbled, caught myself, and lifted my head.

The damage, though, was done. I was lost. An unfamiliar street stretched away to my left and right, lined with unfamiliar buildings. I didn't know this place and I didn't know myself either, mentally reeling from the shock of that one second of pain. I had a name, surely I did, but when I scrabbled to catch hold of it there was nothing but a blank in my mind.

Fear skittered through me and I whirled around, expecting something to attack me - maybe whatever it was that had attacked me in the first place and hurt me in the head. But no one was around, I was alone on the crack-riddled sidewalk. Elsewhere on the street, I could see a few people here and there. They walked with their heads bowed, though, bundled within thick coats and scarves, and did not even seem aware of me.

White vapor clouded up with every exhaled breath, and I shivered when I realized how cold I was. This sweater I was wearing was thin and threadbare, doing nothing to keep out the chill, and the patched-over corduroys weren't much better. Hopefully I checked my pockets for a wallet, looking for identification, or anything at all that would give me a clue. I had nothing.

"Help."

I started at the sound and looked around, only to realize I was the one who'd spoken. I didn't even know the sound of my own voice. I spoke again, just to be sure.

"...help?"

Nobody else was close enough to hear. Maybe there was someplace in this city that I called home, and maybe there were people who could help me, but I did not know how to find them. Going anywhere, though, had to be better than just standing here. Anyway I was cold, and moving would help. I started walking briskly, puffs of mist coming a little faster with the exercise. I had also hoped moving would help curb the growing fear, but it didn't.

It would have been better if I felt I was going somewhere with all my walking. But all the streets I tried, one random turn after another, looked exactly the same. Rows of dreary, featureless buildings lined all of them, all made from the same oatmeal-colored concrete. Low, thick clouds pressed in overhead, adding to the pall. I was starting to get quite desperate, and wondering if I should try knocking on the door of one of those unremarkable buildings, when I turned another corner and nearly walked into a gaping hole.

"Hey, watch it!" someone barked, and I jumped back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see it."

"Try walking with your eyes open next time, or you'll be taking a surprise nose dive into my work site." The construction worker scowled up at me, waist deep in the sidewalk, and I shuffled back a step. "Bekummert," I said again, not wanting any trouble. The rest of his crew shot me a quick sneer or ignored me, depending on their various tasks, most of which seemed to involve tapping at the sidewalk with tiny hammers. All of them wore bright green hard hats, the first real color I'd seen in this city.

"Um, I'm sorry to bother you -"

"Then don't."

"Bitte," I pleaded. "I'm lost. I think I hurt myself, somehow, or maybe someone hurt me, and I can't remember my name -"

"Hey, pass me the number two shovel."

"You got it, chief."

"Is there a place I can go, someone that can help -"

"You're bothering me, kid. Get lost."

"I am lost!"

"No you're not," said one of the other crew, not looking up from his tape measure. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be, or didn't you know that?"

I blinked. "What?"

"What are you, deaf too? You're where you should be. Stop making a big fuss about it and interrupting our work. Hole's not gonna dig itself."

"But only one of you is digging," I said unthinkingly, and got a lot of irritated looks.

"Doesn't know his own name but he knows how to do our job for us. Isn't that amazing, boys?"

"Next he'll be telling us we dug it in the wrong place."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"Sure, like you didn't mean to waltz right into my worksite to begin with. Berlin's a big enough city that you can go find somewhere else to whine, so get yourself gone already." The nearest laborer moved in a little too close to me, and I gulped when I realized I didn't even reach his shoulder. Either this man is extraordinarily tall, or I am very short. "Start walking, boy."

"Can you tell me where I can -"

"Why don't you try that way?" He pointed to his right with a mysterious smirk. "Should be entertaining."

I didn't like the way he said that, but one of the other men was standing up too, looking ready to make me get going if I didn't do it myself. Yes, I was a very short person.

"I'm going!" I ducked my head and scampered around the edge of the hole, apparently too close.

"Get off the stress fractures!"

"Sorry!" I broke into a light run, face burning with embarrassment when I heard their laughter. I couldn't get out of hearing range fast enough. Down the street I ran, vapor of my breath streaming behind me, and did not stop to make any turns. Subconsciously I followed the direction of the construction worker, until I realized I'd followed the street to its very end. Literally, it ended abruptly against a tall concrete wall that stretched away to the left and right for as far as I could see. Looped barbed wire ran along the top. How strange. Why was such a frightening looking wall running right through the city? It seemed so out of place.

Panting from all the exertion, I backed up and tried to see over the top. All I could see was two watchposts, built high enough to be called towers, standing somewhere beyond the wall. Men dressed in soldier uniforms lounged in each of them, a little too far away for me to see their faces very clearly, but they could certainly see me.

"Hey!" one of them hollered, and I cringed. "Your eyes stuck? Why all the staring?"

"I wasn't staring!" I answered quickly, when I saw him heft a machine gun. "I'm just lost! I thought I was supposed to come this way but -"

"Come this way? Come this way? Boy, you are not ever supposed to come this way and don't you forget it!" Even from this distance I could see their glowering expressions. I backed up another step.

"It was an accident, I didn't know! I'm lost!"

"Damn right, you are. We catch you anywhere near this wall again, we'll punch you with so many holes people can see the sunset between your shoulders. Understand?"

"Ja." I nearly tripped over my own feet backing up so quickly, a little nervous about turning my back. "Won't happen again. I'm sorry." I bumped against the closest building and slid myself back around its corner, not really daring to breathe until I had safely plastered myself out of sight. Why is everyone in this city so angry? What did I ever do to them?

I stayed where I was until my breathing had evened out, and I felt ready to move. Where I should go, of course, I didn't know, but I didn't want to step out into the main street again. That left this smaller cross street as my only option, so I started down it at a quick walk. I could still see the strange wall to my right when I reached the end of the block, so I turned a firm left and kept going. I kept checking over my shoulder until I could no longer see it, and only then did I relax. I was still afraid, of course, and bewildered beyond measure. But at least I was no longer being threatened with guns.

A chilly gust prompted me to rub my arms, and speed up a little. I wished it were not so cold. In an effort to hide from the wind I ducked into a recessed shop doorway, a shop that was apparently long since closed down according to the sign on the door. The windows were dark, their inside faces filmed over with dust. The very darkness behind the glass, though, had made the window into something of a mirror. I stepped back, when I realized I could see my own reflection, and for the first time saw what I look like.

Short, yes. I'd already figured as much. I was surprised, though, how young my face looked, my skin smooth and unlined. I couldn't be older than fourteen... maybe fifteen at the most. No wonder everyone kept calling me 'boy' and 'kid'. My hair was a pale, flaxen blonde, just short enough to keep from falling in my eyes but long enough to get disheveled, which it was. The dark glass didn't give me much in the way of color, but I was fairly certain my eyes were blue. Just a typical German boy, nothing extraordinary about me except my diminutive height, nothing to mark me as special. I could be any boy in Berlin.

Disappointed and a little frustrated, I raked fingers through my hair and then froze. What was that movement in the reflection? Was someone behind me?

I whipped around to look, and just managed to glimpse someone ducking back around a corner. My heart thudded a little louder, and I started walking again. I kept to a steady pace, eyes forward, and the next time I passed a window with the right angle I threw a quick peek at it. Yes, someone was following me. That alone would have been enough to strike up fresh panic within me, but he was carrying a camera too. As I watched, he lifted it and aimed the telescope lens my way.

Dread licked at the back of my throat, and with some difficulty I swallowed it back. I did not know why anybody would want to follow me, let alone take pictures, because surely a nondescript kid like me was unimportant. But this person was doing exactly that, and the reasons could not be friendly. I could run, right now, and maybe get away. Caution, though, said I shouldn't give away that I'd spotted him. I should play dumb, be smart. If I could hide, and let him think he'd just lost me, that would be best.

We walked on for another fifteen minutes, during which he probably took dozens more photos of me, before I saw my chance. A building that once stood at the upcoming corner looked to have been demolished completely, leaving nothing but some of the frame and old piles of bricks. I pretended to turn onto the cross street and then promptly dove behind a half-destroyed wall, ducking and scurrying along it until I could crawl behind a heap of lumber scraps. Tensely I waited, crouched on the freezing ground. After a few minutes I could hear the soft tread of his shoes, easy to pick out in the total silence. At first he was moving quickly, thinking he'd fallen behind, but when he turned around the corner I could hear him hesitate. The footsteps faltered, then stopped completely. He could no longer see me, and that probably concerned him. I could practically feel it when he turned to look at the wreckage of the building, thinking it over.

I could have crawled further away, to the rear alley, and slipped away. But the ground was littered with debris, he was so close, and Berlin's streets empty of traffic. He'd hear me for sure. I kept my breathing light and prayed for him to just keep walking.

He did not. He took one step off the sidewalk, and I heard broken glass crunch under his shoe. I was just preparing myself for a sudden dash to the alley, and hoping I'd be able to outrun him, when the silence was abruptly invaded by a distant thumping noise. It got less and less distant with each passing second, refining itself into some sort of music, until it was right on top of us and sending vibrations through the ground. I couldn't hear myself think.

"Hey there!" someone called out, over the din. "Hey you, with the camera! You know your way around this place? I got a little turned around at the last intersection. Crazy traffic in this city, huh?"

No response. I peeked over the edge of my cover and saw the man with the camera scowling at the car, but from this angle I couldn't see the driver. His music, though, would nicely cover any noise that I made. I was too grateful to stop and wonder if it was anything more than a coincidence, and started picking my way across the lot.

"I don't know this neighborhood so good; I came to pick up some new music for my deejay job. Oh hey, I hope you're not an informant or anything, because this tune I'm playing now is seriously banned. It'd be awful if you took a picture of me right now, totally awful. Isn't the music great?" Unbelievably, the volume knob could apparently go higher, because he proceeded to turn it up. When I peeked again, I could see the cameraman frantically snapping photos of the car and its license plate, apparently having forgotten all about me. I felt sorry for the man in the car, but I breathed a quick thank-you and sprinted into the alley. Seconds after I had done so, I heard the squeal of tires peeling out, and an anguished cry following on the heels of the music.

"Give me back my camera!"

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.