The White Door III

part I

part II

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I couldn't move. I had shut the front door, and was standing with my face five inches from its green paint.

Three knocks this time, then silence. Maybe it'll stop. Maybe this isn't happening. Maybe I fell asleep at the wheel a few days ago, and this is all a deep coma sleep. Maybe I'm asleep on a hospital bed. Maybe my mom flew in from Omaha and is sitting at my bedside, knitting, wondering when I will wake up. If I will wake up.

Knock knock knock.

Meow.

I jump out of my stupor as my cat Galaxy starts to rub on my legs. I begin to wonder if I should have gotten the abandoned Pit Bull at the animal shelter - instead of the stub-tailed cat. It probably would be more useful at a time like this.

Knock knock knock.

I pick up Galaxy and tuck her under my arm. She might be a stub-tailed cat, but she's all I've got. It's better than nothing.

I made my way slowly over to the porch to peek at the white door. Yep. It's still there.

Knock knock knock.

And it's still knocking.

I slowly etch my way over to the door as I weigh my options. "Well," I thought, "If I am in a coma, and this is a dream, then I can't really get hurt. I am also a reasonable human being, and I know for a fact that nothing could possibly be behind a door that's just leaning against a pole."

I reach my arm out, and grab the doorknob.