The Door

The door was hardly noticable. Only someone looking for it would be able to see it and I guess I had been subconsiously looking for it that night.

“Mom, is that a door?” I asked, interrupting the flow of conversation.

My mother turned her head to see where I was pointing and saw the handle that had first gotten my attention. It was no ordinary handle but resembled a cradle for a curtain rod. Thinking that the chances it was just a curtain rod holder were better than it being a door handle, my mom lifted up the window panel that closed on their bedroom next door. However, behind the glass and frame there was no matching cradle. Finally my mom said, “If it is a door it would just lead into our bedroom.”

“I bet it leads to another world,” I said, a look of wonder coming over my face. I wanted to try my theory right now. I wanted to kick my parents out and discover the secret of the door.

“Don’t be silly, Rose,” said my father. “Sometimes you have too much imagination.”

I shrugged and changed the subject.

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