I hid the banana in the wall, but the wall knew. The banana-shaped man is here to collect, closer, like he’s always been. The wall shifts, it remembers. His eyes, or the wall’s eyes, search, and that smile—it’s familiar, but I can’t place it. The banana was hidden, supposed to stay that way, but the wall is guiding him. His hand reaches out, or maybe it’s the wall doing it. The banana was mine, I thought, but now it feels like it never was. They knew.