The Nail Holds the Shadow

A nail driven into wood does not ask what it will hold. The wall keeps the nail. The nail keeps the painting. The painting keeps the eye of the man who stands before it every morning, coat still on, keys still in hand. Remove the painting and the nail remains. Remove the nail and the wall remains. But the man, standing there with his keys, holding nothing with his eyes: something in him has been taken out too, something small and load-bearing, something he never named because it had no name, only a location.