He looked up at me, startled, when I sat directly on the floor facing him. No one ever lowered themselves to his height.
I offered him a genuine smile, without calculation. After a brief moment, he returned it — fragile, but real.
With a gentle gesture, I asked him to rest his head on my lap. He resisted for a second, then surrendered, like a child discovering what it means to finally feel safe.
I brought the flashlight to his left ear. Nothing. Everything looked normal.
Then I illuminated the right… and my breath caught.
Something was blocking the canal — a dark mass, embedded, trapped beneath thick layers of hardened earwax, like a wall forgotten by time. How had no one seen this?
