Hey guys! For all of you anonymous reviewers who I couldn't respond to – Spinner, Anonee-Moose, x, NarniaRulz, and Curly – you guys are awesome and those of you who reviewed multiple times (Anonee-Moose, I think you were my oldest reviewer :)) I appreciated it so much. And (obviously)…there IS a sequel! I could never stop writing about Pip.

For those of you who've just opened this story and haven't read my other one – The Stars – well, you should if you want to read this. It's pretty long, but you won't understand this story without reading the other one.

Anyways, I'm so happy to be back with a new story :) I hope you all like it as much as you did the last! It's kind of an odd title, huh? But it's significant.

I don't own the newsies.

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Windows and doors. I seem to be encountering a lot of these lately.

The door to school. The door to the carriage. The door to the mansion. The door to the lodging house. Well, that door I see, but can't go too close to.

The windows in carriages. The windows in school. The window of my room, the full length windows leading to the balcony. Which are stuck fast. The window on the second floor, right now the only window that gives me hope, the only window of opportunity.

Because...all of the doors I enter lead not to where I want to be. All of the windows I look out of really only make me physically see the barrier I have between myself and the rest of the world.

But I must endure it. When opportunity knocks, I will answer.

Everything in my life right now is just so symbolic. Trust me, I have lots of free time. And since I cannot do anything but think, I sure have thought.

Here's an example. The climb to my balcony is too difficult. And even if somehow someone made it…the doors to get to me would be stuck. And we would be forced to only look at each other through the window, the door closed. Able to see each other…but not able to get to each other…

Just like how it is now. The only portal I have into the newsies' world is the window in the second floor passage. Behind a large painting, there is a hole. Crawl through the hole and you reach a small but quaint little room. And there is a medium sized window, one visible from the outside…but no one really thinks about which window goes to which room when looking at a house, do they?

So I have to go down two floors and everyone else has to come up two floors. We meet at the halfway point. How much longer will I be able to survive doing this? Meeting halfway in the dead of night?

And more importantly, how long will Mush, Manny, Jack, Spot…everyone be able to endure this?

So yes, I have windows and doors in my life. But I'm still waiting. Waiting for the right door to open. Waiting for the windows to just disappear…for my life to return back outside, back where there are no restrictions, back where I belong…