At first, it was just a feeling. An absence where something should be. Then, one day, the door appeared. Plain, unmarked, standing where no door had ever been. The walls did not shift to make room for it. It simply was.
The handle was smooth, untouched, as if waiting for the first hand to turn it. The air around it was different. heavier, charged, humming with something just beneath the surface. No keyhole. No lock. Just a door that should not exist.
No one remembers opening it. No one remembers closing it. But sometimes, in the stillness, it feels as if something has stepped through.
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