The door

John moved his hand toward the terminal when doors made a swooshing noise, cutting the quiet atmosphere of the shop.

“You got to see this,” cried Anthony. He bent his back, supporting his arms on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“You’ve been running,” said the tall shop owner, Carl. He often commented on obvious things or events, as if he needed the time to write them down in his head, to some special place for further processing. Like an old computer.

John scanned his face and hoped he would see that strange flash in Carl’s eyes he had once seen years ago. Whenever John heard him acting that way, he imagined the gaming machine where you put a quarter in, moved the liver, and it made a ringing sound, and then suddenly “ding” and coins created a waterfall... Yeah, not a single dime ever dropped out of Carl.

“What we got to see?” someone finally asked the correct question.

“The door,” said Anthony, still leaning and catching the breath.

“The door?” Carl initiated his computing again.

“Anthony,” John moved slowly toward the panting man, “Share your grandiose thoughts, please. Why do you expect we have never seen any doors in our miserable lives?”

“This is not A DOOR,” he turned his head and pointed his finger toward the door. ” This is THE DOOR. There ...”

“Correct, there’s the door,” John nodded, “And I can teach you where are windows as well.”

“Don’t be silly,” he finally stabilized his body, “now is not the time for your boring monologues. The door has just appeared on the village square. The door decorated with runes and carvings.”

Everybody stared at him. Two seconds of silence, and then all flew out, stepping on each other’s feet. They gathered at the front of the shop, leaning on its dirty window. No one was brave enough to walk closer.

A bright object stood right in the middle of the square. Yes, it had the shape of doors, but not a handle. Not even the keyhole. No frame. Occasionally, someone tried to move it or knocked it to the ground, even opening it. The door stood firmly, showing no activity. Then some child jumped and kicked the door with that funny childish kick, almost falling down. The door, making no sound, opened a few inches. A dark shape appeared around the door’s bottom, top, and left edge. It was visible from all directions. As if some beginning of the dark corridor. Or room.

“Somebody made a stupid joke,” John pretended to be cold-headed. That shivering on his back didn’t stop, though.