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I pick. I wiggle. Until the tips of my fingers bleed. I shake out the stiffness in my hand. I have another go. And another. It's been hours. I'm getting mad. Swearing under my breath. Bitching at the nail for being such a stubborn bastard.
As if hearing me, it turns a tiny amount to the right. And to the left. Small crumbs of mortar break off around it. I get giddy. I turn the nail side to side, until it comes out of the wall a little. I pull and twist. It's halfway out now!
But it snags. Refuses to budge any further. I wrap the fingertips of both hands around it and pull as hard as I can. Short, sharp tugs.
Come on, you son of a—Yes! The nail comes all the way out. I stagger back with it in my hands. I shake with excitement.
And just in time too, because I hear those familiar, clo
