The Door Was Never Closed

The house is quiet enough now that you can hear the echo of a door slamming shut behind you. You flinch at the sound.

You turn to check the latch, certain that something has ended, certain that you have been locked out or locked in. But when you look—really look—the door is still wide open.

It never closed. The sound was only the darkness playing tricks on a tired mind, convincing you that the way forward is blocked when it is actually standing right there, waiting.

The light does not slam doors; it holds them open with a patience that outlasts your fear. You are still standing in the threshold, and the path ahead is not gone.

The noise was real to your ears, but the open way is real to your feet.