Outside, the night air is still, and from my room I cannot hear even the lowest of stirs to trouble the slumbering suburb. The door looms above me in somber silence, watching me as I press my eyes closed and try to fall asleep. But with it beside me I know that no sleep will find me. I can see its outline cut through the thick darkness, more solid now than it’s ever looked before, so real to me that I know it could be opened, either by me or by whatever lurks behind it. Slowly, I arise from my bed. Afraid to make a sound, I tiptoe around the door, examining both sides with care for any cracks or imperfections. But I can find none. I reach my hand out to touch it.
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