Handle
Some doors open. Others close. That's where the saying ends, right?
Well, it's a stupid saying. It's wrong.
The thing about doors is if you really want to, you can turn around and open them right back up again. There's a door I'm tempted to do just that with.
It's a door that's been banging open and shut for a long while now, a door that's never quite been open and only recently clicked shut. It was shut because she left and because I didn't stop her. It was shut because of our mutual neglect, our mutual unspoken decision to leave things be. At least, for now.
That time is over. It's in the past.
I reach for the handle, twist it, and slide it open.
There's a click, and a creak, and there she is.
Waiting.
Her own hand raised and ready to knock. Hesitation in her eyes. Nervousness.
When I open the door, that all fades slowly from her.
She smiles. And that's when I know that it is our time.
Our door is finally open and inviting us both in.
fin.
