Maybe if one person suffers anywhere in the world, we all have blood in our hands.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No furniture, no light fittings, no carpet, no bodies. Not a single body. Nothing but the million ducks, the three million ducklings and a window.
But I'm not saying anything because I've just noticed the brick. Or rather the lack of brick. Of course, some of the dark shapes on the floor probably are bricks, but they don't look like my brick. The one that can be up against the door. But isn't.