The Changed Mural

Zhu carried him out into the courtyard and sat him down on the stone bench in the sun. The abbot brought water. Chen drank, and blinked, and looked at his friend as if he were seeing him for the first time, which, in a way, he was.

Where was I? Chen said. His voice was hoarse. Zhu did not answer at once, because Zhu did not know the answer, and because he had begun to suspect that the answer was not a place he could say aloud.

Inside, Zhu said at last. You were inside the painting. You stood at the wall for a morning. We called you, and you did not come, and the old monk chanted, and then you came.