He had never thought about it. It was a small, insignificant thing, and yet it must have been there all the time. It pervaded every inch of his life gracefully but discreetly, giving no indication that it was there in the background, hidden, but real. He had never given it a moment’s reflection, though not through thoughtlessness. It kicked and struggled in all the shapes that belonged to his nights and days. It climbed up, threw itself headlong into spaces, heedless of every danger. Had he never noticed it? It was strange because, seeing it now, it seemed important. It seemed as if it had always been the only one.